


No Amount of Words (Mother Tongue)

by v0rfreude



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, Smut, brief mention of smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v0rfreude/pseuds/v0rfreude
Summary: The last thing Junhui is expecting when he boards a train bound for Amsterdam is to fall in love.





	No Amount of Words (Mother Tongue)

**Author's Note:**

> Ah this turned out to be much more of a project than I was anticipating! This is an idea I've been holding onto for a long time and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!
> 
> Title is from the song Mother Tongue by Bring Me the Horizon - so give it a listen if you really want to get in the mindset.

It's drizzling gently when Junhui arrives at Santa Maria Novella train station in Florence with Minghao in tow- carrying Junhui's bags partly out of guilt. "Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for a flight for you? Junhui the train ride is like twenty hours." 

"The train is cheaper." Junhui explains as he picks up his ticket at the counter. "It'll be an experience. I've never ridden a train that long- the farthest I've gone is Paris." He’s actually surprisingly excited to get away from home for a while.

Minghao sighs.

"What are you so worked up for? You have an art exhibition opening in an Amsterdam museum. You should be happy." Jun lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head. More than anything it isn’t the train ride that he feels disappointed about, it’s the fact that he won’t be there to help calm Minghao’s anxiety about his show. 

"I am happy. But that's also the reason my best friend is going to get stuck on a railway for twenty hours while I get a two hour flight a day later." Minghao says as they reach the correct train platform. He worries his fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

This show is the moment they’ve dreamed of since they started college in Florence. Junhui could be jealous, or resentful even- but he doesn’t feel that at all. He’s happy, and proud of Minghao. He recognizes that, of the two of them, Minghao’s painting work is more universal. Honestly, Junhui’s just happy to be here for the ride, content to sit in the middle of a piazza and draw portraits for tourists for cheap tips. He’s accepted the feeling of mediocrity that comes with a trained artist doing life drawings and small commissions for even smaller companies. But, if nothing else, this train ride is a good practice in life drawing.

The two of them share a hug and Junhui smiles brightly. "It's fine, I promise. I'm looking forward to it. Quiet reflection with the rolling hillside? Boredom? I never even knew her." Junhui takes out his pocket sketchbook and waves it in front of Minghao’s face. "But when you get to be a famous artist and stuff you have to tell everyone I took a twenty hour train ride to see your first ever exhibition."

"Deal." Minghao grins, handing Junhui his bag.

Junhui smiles and steps onto the train when it arrives, waving excitedly to Minghao through the windows as he walks back to find a seat. 

\---

As soon as he gets on the train, Junhui feels eyes boring holes into him. He glances up, and immediately he and the other man avert their gazes. In short,  _ he’s hot _ . Junhui sits across from the man who also has a black dust mask on his face with owlish round glasses perched on his nose. He looks up briefly from his book that he pretends he’s been reading the whole time when Junhui sits down, just as the train starts to move.

"My name's Jeon Wonwoo." He says in Italian that sounds not quite confident. Like maybe he's been reading a book of basic phrases or something.

There's a smile hiding behind the dust mask that Junhui just knows is amazing by the way Wonwoo's eyes curve upward, his nose scrunching at the bridge. It's weirdly forward of an introduction but Junhui has always appreciated boldness anyway. He might as well make friends to make the journey less lonely. "My names Wen Junhui. Im Chinese but you're Korean right? I went to an arts high school in Seoul." He says back in Korean. It feels so strange speaking Korean after so long, his pronunciation sounds a little weird even to his own ears.

Wonwoo seems to sigh in relief, but if he thinks anything of Junhui’s pronunciation he doesn’t let on. "I'm glad because I don't really speak Italian or Chinese."

Junhui laughs, teasing, "I noticed."

Wonwoo scrunches his nose adorably. "I was trying to practice."

"You did great! Bellissimo." Junhui smiles back easily. That does get a rise out of Wonwoo, the tips of his cheeks blossoming with blush. It’s really cute, Junhui wishes he had pastels so that he could draw it.

"Anyway," Wonwoo, rubs his hands over his thighs distractingly. "You live here? In Florence?" When Junhui nods, Wonwoo presses on, "where are you going?"

"Amsterdam."

"How come?" His voice is a deep baritone that reminds Junhui of deep blue velvet- the kind that almost looks black- smooth and effortless in its cadence.

"Are you gonna like... Murder me? I've seen a police show or two." Junhui laughs, but he doesn’t feel any unease around Wonwoo. It’s actually quite the opposite- he feels completely comfortable- like seeing an old friend.

Wonwoo laughs a little uncomfortably, picking back up the book he'd been reading when Junhui sat down. "Ah, sorry about that."

"It's okay." Junhui says quickly, feeling a tinge of disappointment at letting the conversation drop. Of course he would immediately fuck up a conversation with the only hot guy on the train. Wonwoo's already seemingly engrossed in his book.  _ Metamorphoses _ . Who even reads Ovid? Junhui wonders idly if he’s just a college student trying to get away for a weekend too.

Feeling antsy, Junhui pulls out his sketchbook and instead of the rolling hillside, he starts to try and capture the intensity in Wonwoo's eyes and every curl in his dark hair.

\--

It's midmorning when the sound of his sketchbook falling out of his lap jolts Junhui out of sleep. When did he even fall asleep? He looks around groggily, not realizing what's going on until Wonwoo's picking up his sketchbook.

"Hey, is this me?" Wonwoo's voice is no longer muffled and Junhui realizes Wonwoo's mask is off and… holy shit his teeth are perfect, his nose scrunching when he smiles. A long moment of silence stretches between them. "Hm?" 

Junhui snaps out of his staring, feeling embarrassed. "Don't look at it, it's just a sketch." He says while snatching his sketchbook back. "Sorry, it's just- it's private." He doesn’t usually show anyone except Minghao, and maybe Mingyu his unfinished work. 

"It's  _ my _ face." Wonwoo grins and takes a sip of a nearly full iced coffee, he must’ve just gotten back from the dining car. His lips turn up mischievously, making his nose scrunch. Junhui knew there was a perfect smile under the mask, his stomach flips at the sight. 

"You have a point." Junhui yawns out, rubbing his eyes. "What's the next station?"

"I believe it said Turin?"

"Ah, I have a transfer there." Junhui smiles wistfully out the window and at the now sunny countryside- the rain clouds having turned to white puffs on the horizon.

"Ah weird," Wonwoo says, "me too." 

Blinking in surprise, Junhui looks back at Wonwoo. "Don't tell me you're on your way to Amsterdam too, stalker."

"Ah, no actually. I'm stopping in Paris then I'm flying home to Korea." Wonwoo's mood seems brought down by the conversation and his eyes turn to the window.

Ah so he was just on holiday then. Junhui frowns in return. "Sad to be leaving Europe?"

"Yeah, you could say that." A weird smile plays at the edge of Wonwoo's lips but never reaches his eyes.

Feeling uneasy, Junhui's quiet for a long moment. "Well. My train route goes through Paris so at least we can travel together until then?" If Minghao were here he would tell Junhui not to say something like that, to be more careful. But to him, the adventure is half the fun, and Wonwoo seems nice enough.

A laugh so earnest comes from Wonwoo that Junhui almost jumps. "Bellissimo." He says. Something strange happens in Junhui’s chest, something that leaves him aching.

"Bellissimo." Junhui repeats, smiling ear to ear behind his mask. He checks his phone to see a couple messages from Minghao asking how he's getting along.

**_jun:_ ** _ 'just fine. I met a new friend.' _

The response comes immediately

**_haohao:_ ** _ 'met someone? who?' _

Junhui stares at his phone, blanking for a response until he breaks into a grin. 

**_Jun:_ ** ' _ yeah i think he's my new best friend or something ;)' _

He puts his phone away, smiling at the sudden barrage of vibration it causes in his pocket- what he imagines are a multitude of texts demanding pictures, personality questions, and at least one "'ok but were still platonic soulmates right?'"

\--

They arrive in turin somewhere around eleven o’clock and when the train doors open, a rush of floral smelling air comes to meet them. Wonwoo smiles like it's the most beautiful thing he's experienced. For Junhui, he guesses it's been a while since the magic of the Italian countryside wore off- he and Minghao used to go every weekend to practice  _ en plein air _ . Of course it's always nice to go to a new place and see art he's only heard of in text books, but the charm sort of dulls after a while.

"How long is the layover? Do you think we have time to find a cafe?" Wonwoo asks, rolling a sizable black suitcase behind him. 

“Are you asking me on a date?” Junhui teases.

“Do you want it to be?” Wonwoo shoots back, even though his face flooding with pink.

Junhui rolls his eyes and pulls out his ticket to avoid the question then looks at his watch. "It looks like we have about two hours. It's probably enough." He shrugs, tucking his ticket back into his sketchbook. Then he adjusts the bag hanging off of his own shoulder and heads through the terminal, practically brushing hands with Wonwoo.

"Did you know you sleep with your eyes open?" Wonwoo asks suddenly, pulling up his face mask to hide the smile breaking across his face. "I was going to ask you to come to the dining car with me, but you were out like a light. I mean- I tried talking to you because your eyes were open but I ended up looking pretty crazy."

_ Of fucking course. _ A flush blooms in Junhui's cheeks. "Yeah, my friends always complain about how creepy it is, sorry." He laughs and rubs the back of his neck.

"It's no big deal, the coffee wasn't even that good so you didn't miss anything. Besides, how else would I have spotted your drawing of me?" Wonwoo peers over at Junhui which makes him feel even hotter.

"It wasn't finished-"

"It was still great." Wonwoo insists. His hand finds its way to Junhui's shoulder. "Maybe you can show me when it's done?"

"Hh? Uh yeah sure." Junhui, flustered, takes a chance at looking up at Wonwoo and their eyes meet. A resounding thud fills his ears- the rush of blood making him light headed. He tries to convince himself it's just because he hasn't eaten. He's just having these weird illusions of connection between them because Wonwoo is his only companionship right now. Thankfully before he can think too much of it, they come to the road in front of the train station.

Wonwoo points to the left and right as if to ask which way to which Junhui shrugs and Wonwoo copies the motion before taking a few steps to the right. Then, as if he's not satisfied, turns around and starts heading to the left. Junhui laughs at the spectacle, but follows diligently. "Do you have some sort of pastry radar?" 

"Most people call it a nose." Wonwoo smiles over his shoulder as Junhui catches up with him.

"It's called a nose." Junhui repeats mockingly which only serves to make Wonwoo laugh more. " _ I  _ don't smell anything." He says, but sure enough they come upon a small, open air cafe surrounded by a little wrought iron fence where people are talking quietly at matching tables with bright, colorful umbrellas.

"Told you." 

"Yeah, yeah." Junhui smiles as they sit down at a table made for two. He orders them both iced Americanos from the waitress at the behest of Wonwoo, pulling down his face mask in the process. After a moment of looking over the menu, he feels as though he's being watched and looks up- seeming to startle Wonwoo into looking back down at his own menu. "What is it?"

"Hm?" Wonwoo answers airily, lifting an eyebrow as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen Junhui.

"You were staring at me."

"No I wasn't." Wonwoo says, but the blush on his high cheekbones gives him away.

"Yes you were." Answers Junhui coyly. He can’t help the smirk that curls onto his lips, letting his head rest in his hand while he watches Wonwoo.

It takes a moment for Wonwoo to put down his menu before he shrugs. "It's just the first time I've seen your whole face." He answers nonchalantly before picking up his menu again. 

It's just enough information to drive Junhui's brain into overdrive.  _ What is that supposed to mean? Am I ugly?  _ Instead he settles for, "You should take yours off too-” And not wanting to sound like it’s just a ruse to see Wonwoo’s face he adds, “Europeans think it's weird."

"Huh." Wonwoo takes his mask off without another word- shoving it into his pocket. After another long moment of quiet, Wonwoo sets down his menu carefully and looks up at Junhui. The air feels so serious in that moment, as if Wonwoo's getting ready to spill every secret he's ever had. Instead, all that comes out is, "I have no idea what any of this says."

And they both burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

When Junhui’s done wiping away his tears on his sleeves and his cheeks hurt from smiling, he opens up the menu in front of Wonwoo. “Well. What are you hungry for?” He points to several different things and explains their contents, translating the Italian to Korean with some effort. A giddiness fills his stomach when he sees the way Wonwoo's looking him over- like he’s not even paying attention to what he’s saying. It’s like he just wants to listen to Junhui talk. He decides to simplify- give them time to talk about things other than the menu. “Or we could just split a pizza.”

“That sounds perfect.” Wonwoo smiles, stacking their menus together. He leans his cheek on a fist. Junhui’s very aware of the way Wonwoo watches him place their order, his eyes lingering on Junhui’s lips.

“You’re staring at me again.” Junhui says immediately after the server leaves. It sounds accusing, but he’s smiling when he eyes Wonwoo who pushes up his glasses. 

“Was I?” Wonwoo muses, stirring his coffee with its straw. He shrugs. “It’s impressive- your Italian I mean. Have you been in Italy long?”

“Mm.” Junhui thinks for a moment, trying to tamp down the pride that wants to fill his chest. “It’ll be three years next month I guess.” Saying it out loud feels like some fever dream. “Minghao convinced me to follow him here for art school. We’re supposed to graduate next May.”

“Minghao?” There’s something like dejection at the edge of Wonwoo’s voice. Junhui doesn't want to think too much about what that could mean. They've only just met after all.

“Oh- yeah- he’s- that’s why I’m going to Amsterdam, his show got accepted for an exhibition at the Outsider Art Museum.” Junhui explains. “We were supposed to travel together, but there was a miscommunication and well, I ended up on a train and he’s going by plane.” 

“Which is why  _ I _ ended up traveling with you.” Wonwoo smiles gently- his face giving away nothing.

“Exactly.” There’s a pause before Junhui meets Wonwoo’s eyes again. “So… What about you? What are you doing in Italy?” It’s not strange to meet foreigners at any one time in Italy on account of the massive tourist appeal, but to Junhui, Wonwoo feels strangely out of place here, even as comfortable as he seems with himself sometimes. 

“Just passing through.” In a moment of reflection, he seems to decide something, and a look of determination passes over his eyes. However, he looks perfectly nonchalant when he says, "I dropped out of school in London." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah, I uh-" Wonwoo fidgets nervously before letting out a quiet laugh. Finally, he shrugs. "I guess it's just true that school isn't for everyone. You’re the first one beside my friends in London that I’ve told."

Junhui smiles in a way that’s soft and a little sad, touching his fingertips to Wonwoo's which are resting on the table between them. There's a moment of tension that fades as quickly as it came up and they relax into the motion of gently twining their fingers together. He doesn't know who starts the motion, but it seems to startle them both and their eyes fall to the scene in unison. It’s a surreal moment in time, like things have slowed down around them.

"School doesn't mean everything," Junhui says after some time while he examines the perfect way their fingers fit together. "I mean you  _ are _ reading Ovid for fun then, right? Either that or you stole it as some sick trophy from your school before you left and are reading it out of pure boredom."

The sound of Wonwoo's laughter is magic in Junhui's ears. "A little of both I suppose? I was a literary major, and I refused to pay for my own copy so," he gestures widely with his free hand, "I ended up actually really liking it after I had it chronically checked out from the library. I think they just accepted that it's mine now." 

"I admire your commitment."

"Thank you." Wonwoo smiles right as their pizza comes. "Wow." He breathes. Their hands come apart slowly as they both seem to realize that they'll need them for eating. Junhui feels sad at the loss, fingers left with a slight tingle.

"Right? Real Italian pizza is-" Junhui grins while he makes a chef’s kiss motion, breaking himself off a slice of pizza. "So," he begins between bites, "if you're flying out of Paris then why did you ride the train all the way down to Italy? Paris isn't that far from London."

"No- I know." Wonwoo chews thoughtfully. "I guess I needed time to face my parents- my friends back home. Everyone who saw this coming" He shrugs. "So I allowed myself two weeks to travel, and now here I am."

"Here you are." Junhui agrees softly. He feels bad for Wonwoo- for the inadequacy he must feel. He's all too familiar with that feeling himself- artist was not his parent’s first choice for a career path, maybe a museum curator, or archaeologist, but not a poor starving artist. They supported him regardless when he asked to move to Seoul and then Florence. Junhui senses Wonwoo doesn’t exactly have that kind of support. “Do you think it’s helped?”

“It certainly gave me time to think.” 

“What did you come up with? I can’t imagine having to tell my parents something like that.”

“Well,” Wonwoo seems to lose himself in thought, leaving Junhui to watch quietly the way his eyes fall to the side to collect his thoughts. “When I left I kept thinking- what if everything I’m doing now is wrong? What if I’m making the wrong decision for myself?” Junhui nods understandingly while Wonwoo continues. “But then, I reasoned… What if school was the thing I was doing wrong. Would I be unhappy for the rest of my life if I didn’t make this decision for myself?”

“Do you think you made the right call?” Junhui asks breathlessly.

Wonwoo’s eyes flick upwards to meet Junhui’s, and he’s searching, searching his eyes so intensely that Junhui fidgets in his seat. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “yeah I think I made the right call.” He rests his chin on his fist. “Do you think I’ll regret it?”

Taken aback, it takes Junhui several moments to recover. It’s such a serious question to ask someone who’s basically a complete stranger. He tilts his head and examines Wonwoo carefully. “I think that… If it’s something you really felt you needed to do and believe in doing then…” Junhui worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Well then, even if you regret it later, it’s something you have to do for yourself now.”

“Thank you Junhui.” Wonwoo smiles, but it seems like it’s more to himself than anything else. “That makes me… happy.”

\---

They order tiramisu. One piece to split between the two of them. Their conversation drifts to lighter topics like video games while their spoons occasionally knock together. 

“So anyway. That’s why-” Junhui stops mid-sentence when Wonwoo reaches out and thumbs at his cheek.

“Sorry- you had something on your cheek.” Wonwoo says quietly, wiping it away quickly on his napkin. His cheeks are a burning red that Junhui assumes matches his own.

Both of them sit in flustered silence for a long moment before Junhui glances at his watch. “Oh my god! We have ten minutes to get to the train.” He gasps, getting up and throwing down some Euros for the meal. “Come on.” He gets up all at once, followed closely by Wonwoo. They sprint down the street back towards the train station. 

It’s only once they’re finally on the train that they allow themselves to stop, nearly collapsing on each other as they burst into laughter. The passengers in the train stare at them, but they couldn’t care less. Gathering their respective bags, Junhui and Wonwoo move to two empty seats near the back of their train car. It’s not long after that the train begins to move. “That was close.” Junhui sighs.

“We made it though.” Wonwoo says breezily. He leans his head on top of Junhui’s like it comes naturally. “It’s so strange, this is the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time. It feels like I should be stressed out knowing I have to leave tomorrow and then  _ tell my parents _ ?” He laughs softly. 

Junhui wants to look at him, to read his face, but he doesn’t want to move from this position. He hesitates before taking Wonwoo’s hand in his own. “Probably just the adrenaline.” Juinhui teases quietly. 

“It’s probably this train ride.” 

Junhui doesn’t know what to say for a while. The words hold this strange sort of weight in them- the kind that makes you feel bubbly on the inside but you’re not quite sure why. After a long pause, he says, “Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course.”

Looking up at the window, Junhui can see Wonwoo looking at him in the reflection of it. He feels a lump rising in his throat and takes a beat before continuing, “Well… I just have this feeling that this weekend is going to change my life. I mean, well, I don’t think Minghao’s rising fame will change him at all. He’s kind of down to earth that way. But I think that Mingyu’s going to propose to him.” Junhui sighs heavily, peeking at the window to see Wonwoo’s eyes on him even more intensely although his body seems to release this tension it was holding onto. “And right now, we live together and Mingyu just comes over sometimes, but if they’re gonna get married. You know, I’m happy for them. But what does that mean for me? I don’t want to live with a married couple.” 

“What if we lived together?” Wonwoo laughs softly, squeezing Junhui’s hand.

Junhui turns to look at Wonwoo and their eyes meet. The back of Junhui’s neck prickles with heat. “Jeon Wonwoo, you’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” He breathes.

Suddenly they’re closing the space between the two of them, and their lips meet- experimentally at first but slowly and carefully slotting together. The motion of the train makes it a little bit more clumsy, but all first kisses are. Wonwoo’s hand finds its way to Junhui’s neck, gently thumbing over the skin while they come away from the kiss slowly. The two of them breathe in sync, slow and deep- their lips still barely brushing against one another. They open their eyes to look at each other again. Wonwoo is the first to speak, “Was that crazy of me?”

“Mm,” Junhui hums thoughtfully, “no I don’t think so.” They share a laugh, breathing each other’s air. There’s something like fireworks going off in Junhui’s head, his mind is buzzing like a million bees and there’s just so much he wants,  _ needs _ , to know everything about Wonwoo suddenly. His favorite color, his favorite book, food, the first vacation he ever took with his family. All of the boring little details that make up a person. He needs to know the ins and outs and he only has an approximately five hour train ride to do it. “Wonwoo?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

Wonwoo seems startled, but settles again slowly- looking uncertain. “I think I’ve loved a lot.” He pauses and looks past Junhui out the window. “Fallen in love? That’s different don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.” Junhui frowns faintly, thinking of all the relationships in his life. People he’s known for years,  _ loved _ for years- it’s never felt like this. The thought alone makes something well up in his chest. Maybe this is what falling in love feels like. At first it’s so, so heavy, like an iron cage in his bones, but then there’s this fluttering feeling like a bird inside that puts up such an effort so as to thrust the cage off. And then it’s bursting, bursting out and through every limb and fiber of his body until it’s singing forward- branding Wonwoo’s name on every thought, every feeling. He wonders if Wonwoo feels it too, but is afraid to ask.

“Junhui?”

He looks up at Wonwoo blankly, having no idea what he’s just said.

“Have you?”

“What?”

“Fallen in love?” Wonwoo asks slowly.

“With you?”

Wonwoo falls silent, his eyes studying Junhui’s face. The silence between them turns heavy, almost uncomfortable. This space they’ve created seems unreal and they can both sense it, these beautiful moments in time that makes them feel frozen. But time waits for no one, and sooner or later they’ll both have to part ways. Leave this place. 

“We only have a few hours.” It’s the first time either one of them have acknowledged the situation out loud, broken the illusion of timelessness. Junhui flinches into the statement, letting it sink into a cold place in his stomach. Wonwoo seems to regret it immediately, looking away and out the window opposite their seats.

“What’s your favorite color?” Junhui asks suddenly.

“What?” Wonwoo asks, turning back to him incredulously. 

“We have a few hours right? We should get to know each other.” Junhui prompts, trying a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes yet. He squeezes Wonwoo’s hand tentatively. “My favorite color is black.”

Wonwoo smiles. “I like blue.”

\---

Wonwoo’s favorite color is blue, like the ocean, or like Junhui’s t-shirt. His favorite book is anything by Shakespeare, which he admits is cliche. Though his absolute favorite is  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ because, he says, that his first college paper was an investigation of how the tale could be construed to read as if Puck and Oberon had been lovers, and that the work was actually based heavily off of Virgil’s  _ Eclogues _ . 

“It’s all very boring.” Wonwoo had said, but Junhui loved every minute of watching him talk, showing off his knowledge. His favorite food is ramen, or hamburgers, but he can’t stand seafood- the smell alone makes him feel sick. The first vacation he remembers is right after his little brother- whom he loved from the moment he laid eyes on him- was born. Though he was only two, he thinks he recalls the beach and the way his parents had taken turns building sand castles with him, only to have the castles destroyed by the incoming tide. He remembered crying then. And it all made sense to Junhui because it was probably one of Wonwoo’s first memorable brushes with impermanence. 

Junhui's favorite color is black like the night sky when there are no stars, or Wonwoo's deep eyes. His favorite book is  _ the Goldfinch _ by Donna Tartt, and the best part of going to the Netherlands is that Minghao promised to take him to see the actual painting at the Hague. Wonwoo’s never read it, but he puts it on his reading list on his phone- and Junhui can’t help but think how cute it is that Wonwoo keeps a running list of books to read. Junhui can’t stand to eat eggplant, and he thinks white rice is boring, but he loves anything spicy. 

The first vacation he remembers was before his little brother was born, but after his mom had met his step father. They had flown to Greece where they spent most days wandering through the touristy area of Athens and to the beach. However, he most remembers the Acropolis Museum. He must’ve been six or seven, reading the plaques with the help of his parents. It’s where he first fell in love with art, recalling the story of Hadrian and Antinous- of Antinous’s relatively short life and his even more sudden death.

“Of course I didn’t really know what being lovers meant at that point, but I remember thinking how lonely it must have been for Hadrian after Antinous died- for him to name a whole city after Antinous  _ and _ make him a god?” Junhui had started to draw shapes into Wonwoo’s palm at that point. Wonwoo just smiles back, all of his focus on Junhui. “They probably only knew each other for seven years- were only official lovers for two of them.” He cast his eyes up to the ceiling, tearing up. “It must have hurt so badly.”

_ Just like this is going to hurt us. _ Junhui shoves the thought down, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“ _ The course of true love never did run smooth _ .” Wonwoo quotes Shakespeare like it comes naturally to him, and brushes away Junhui’s tears. It looks like his eyes might be shining too. 

“I think… It might be time to take a nap.” Junhui laughs quietly.

“You just woke up.”

“Getting to know someone is tiring it turns out.” He explains with a nervous chuckle, leaning his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder.  _ Besides it’s making me too sad _ . Wonwoo carefully puts his head on top of Junhui’s, and he could swear he feels the wet warmth of tears soaking into his hair.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo whispers into the space in front of them, the words hanging heavily between them. It dissolves uneasily as they both fall asleep. 

\---

Junhui is the first to rouse, rubbing his eyes and looking at a sleeping, unguarded Wonwoo in the reflection of the window. He smiles softly and pulls out his cellphone, snapping a quick picture. They look like a surreal painting, just faint apparitions on the glass. Then, he opens kakaotalk.

**_haohao:_ ** _ ‘junhui?  _

**_>_ ** _ wen junhui i swear to fucking god don’t you dare get murdered by a stranger on this the day of my daughters wedding _

**_>_ ** _ Hello?  _

**_>_ ** _ Do not make me quote more Godfather at you. _

**_>_ ** _ Jun?’ _

**_Jun:_ ** _ ‘sorry sorry sorry i forgot’ _

**_haohao:_ ** _ ‘gē fuck, you scared me _

**_>_ ** _ gyu was about to start hopping trains until he found you’ _

**_Jun:_ ** _ ‘i really am sorry its just…’ _

I don’t want to waste any time.

**_Haohao:_ ** _ ‘just what? junnie are- im gonna call you.’ _

Junhui sighs softly, carefully extricating himself from Wonwoo as his phone starts to ring. He can feel his heart thudding in his throat as he tries to figure out what he’s going to say to Minghao.

“Junhui?” Wonwoo mumbles sleepily.

“Shh, it’s okay, I have to take this call.” Junhui kisses his temple before excusing himself to the lounge car- answering the phone as he goes.

“Gē! I’m coming to get you. I knew I shouldn't have left you alone, that man’s going to murder you and it’s all my fault. You’re on your way to Paris right? Mingyu’s ordering me a flight right now.” Minghao’s Italian which is usually low and smooth has a shrill edge to it. Junhui can hear the telltale sound of a suitcase zipper and then rustling like Minghao’s struggling to lift whatever he’s packed..

“No! Minghao. It’s not- I’m not in trouble or anything.” Junhui laughs shakily. He figures the truth is the way to go on this one. “It’s actually… Well, quite the opposite.”

There’s a thud like Minghao dropping his bag finally. He lets his breath out all in a rush against the receiver. “Can you please just tell me what’s going on.”

Junhui orders a latte from the bar, sitting on one of the stools there. “I met someone you know?”

“Yeah you told me that already.”

“I think… Well.” Junhui sighs heavily, dropping his head into his hand. It’s going to sound ridiculous out loud, and he knows it- knows Minghao will think so too. “Minghao, do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Oh Junhui, gē…” There’s more noise in the background, and Junhui can hear Mingyu faintly in the background. Great, he’s probably on speaker.  _ Does he think he’s in love _ ? Mingyu’s voice drifts to the microphone as if to confirm his suspicion. “I- I don’t know… are you in love Junhui? It’s kind of soon to tell right?” He sounds shaken by this unexpected revelation.

Junhui laughs and it sounds strangely hollow. His latte is placed in front of him by the pretty boy who’s bar-tending, his name tag says Joshua and Junhui thanks him gently. “Um. Yeah, I know it’s- I think I might be.” His words are small, clipped. “His name is Wonwoo, but he’s- Minghao, he’s perfect.”

“I mean, if you’re sure, then you should invite him to the show. It wouldn’t be a problem I’d love to meet this Wonwoo.” Minghao says carefully.

“That’s the problem, I can’t. He’s flying home to South Korea in the morning.” Junhui knows he sounds sad and pathetic.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, gē.” Minghao says softly. “I- I don’t know what to say.” It's a rarity for Minghao.

“It’s okay. I’ll just have to get over it- you know I can’t do long distance relationships.” Junhui says into his latte. He reflects on the first year of college he spent trying to make it work with Soonyoung- and the ensuing explosion that happened when they both decided it wasn’t working anymore. The fallout had felt devastating since Soonyoung was his first real relationship, and it had ended so, so poorly. Junhui wants to end things cleanly with Wonwoo so they can both move on from this limbo they’re in.

“Well. I just want you to do what you think is best.”

“Thank you, Hao. I’ll see you in Amsterdam.”

“See you soon, gē.”

  
  
  


Junhui leans heavily on the bar, staring down at his latte with both hands supporting his head. His heart sits uncomfortably in his chest- jumping more than beating.

“You should just enjoy it, you know?”

“Huh?” Junhui’s head swivels towards the unfamiliar voice. It’s the bar-tender. He bends on the counter, resting his chin on his palm.

“You said you love this person right?” The bar tender asks in Italian, hip cocked to one side. “You’re wasting time sitting in here crying about it.”

“What do you know?”

“I hear a lot of stories. It’s kind of my job.” He sticks his hand out. “I’m Joshua.”

Junhui shakes his hand tentatively. “Junhui. It’s nice to meet you I guess?”

“Is that the man you’re in love with?” Joshua asks conspiratorially, leaning down close to Junhui. “He’s cute.” Junhui starts, turning to the door. But no one’s there and Joshua giggles happily. “Boy, you  _ do _ got it bad, huh?”

Junhui sighs and takes a huge gulp of his latte. “Guilty.” 

“Well. I’m just saying, there’s nothing to lose except love, right? I mean if you really, really love him.” Joshua smiles and all his teeth are perfectly aligned. “I’m getting off the train in Paris, and seeing someone I met online for the first time.” 

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to talk to strangers?”

“Hey, I’m probably older than you.” Joshua huffs. “Besides, we’ve facetimed.” He writes something down. “Maybe we’ll see each other later.” Then, he passes the slip of paper with what looks like a bar’s name on it. 

A soft smile passes over Junhui’s lips. “Maybe.” He doesn’t tell Joshua that he’s not leaving the train station with Wonwoo. He has a train to Amsterdam to catch after all, and early tomorrow morning Wonwoo has a flight to catch. And that will be that. He slips the paper into his pocket. “I’ll see you around.”

“Good luck.”

Junhui gets up and heads back towards their train car, feeling strangely out of place. Like something’s glitched and he doesn’t belong in this space anymore- this strange limbo that only exists on this train. The sensation reminds him of the fair ride that spins so fast you get stuck to the wall and you can’t move or escape, and it feels like you’re just stuck standing still. There’s about 90 minutes left until they reach Paris. There’s a sickening feeling in Junhui’s stomach, while he forces himself forward.

“Junhui.” Wonwoo’s voice is distant in his ears when he reaches the train car. “I was beginning to worry. What happened in there? I- I almost came in but I didn’t want to invade.”

“Ah, you’re kind.” Junhui smiles faintly. “Minghao called to ask how I was doing- I kind of forgot to check in so he was a little mad.”  _ 89 minutes. _

“Sit down, Junhui, you look pale. Are you sure everything’s alright?” Wonwoo takes Junhui’s hand carefully in his own. 

There are so, so many things Junhui could say in this moment.  _ No, I am completely  _ not _ fine. In fact, my brain is shattering all because of you Jeon Wonwoo. And now that our time is coming to a close, it’s impossible to concentrate because you,  _ you _ have burned yourself into my heart. And I can’t make some city for you, or make you a god. All that I can do is try to forget this whole thing ever existed.  _ It all feels so foolish, when he knew this could never last.

“Liminality.” Junhui says instead. It probably sounds crazy, but getting it out in the open keeps the thought from repeating over and over in Junhui’s head.

“What?” Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow- Junhui wonders idly if he sounds as strung up as he feels. He must with the way Wonwoo’s looking at him.

“That’s what this feeling must be.” Junhui motions around the two of them. “I took a class where the instructor talked nonstop about it all the time, but I had no idea what the fuck he was going on about.”

“Being on a train with me?” Wonwoo tries to joke. He doesn’t seem to know where Junhui’s going with this. Truthfully, Junhui doesn’t either.

“No, no- well. Kind of.” Junhui squeezes Wonwoo’s hand. “We’re sharing this weird point in time. Both of us are moving towards a different part of life, and we don’t know what to expect. It’s like- I don’t know. Life before a certain point is so predictable- you develop a routine to follow. It probably will settle back in after this too, but right now we don’t know what to expect we just have to sit in that feeling and let whatever  _ it _ is on the other side come to us. It’s scary.”  _ 81 minutes. _

“I like it when you say  _ us _ .”

“Doesn’t it bother you that we only have,” Junhui checks his watch purposefully, his breath shaking, “eighty minutes left together?”

Wonwoo frowns. “So that’s what this is about.”

“Hasn’t it always been about that?”

“In some way yes, but it became more about  _ us _ , didn’t it?” Wonwoo sighs heavily, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes, and oh shit he’s crying. Not wracking sobs, his shoulders don’t even shake but his eyes are wet and that’s enough to send Junhui into another complete tailspin. He  _ made _ Wonwoo cry. He begins to feel his stomach bottom out.

“I would understand if you want me to sit somewhere else. I’m sorry.” Junhui gets up hurriedly, but Wonwoo grabs his wrist softly.

“No. As long as we’re in the same train- the same country- I wouldn’t have you anywhere that isn’t next to me.” His voice sends a dull aching through all of Junhui’s body.

_ Isn’t that the man you love? You’re wasting time sitting here being sad. _ Joshua’s voice resounds in Junhui’s head. He leans down suddenly, kissing Wonwoo slowly- catching him off guard until he leans into it. Wonwoo reaches up and grabs Junhui’s cheeks, holding him until Junhui’s back starts to ache and he pulls away. 

“We’re not like your ancient Greeks, Junhui. We have time. There’s not much, but it’s time enough at least to find closure in all of this. Even if you want to forget me- forget that all this ever happened. I’ll accept it. Just please. Spend these last few minutes with me.”

And so they do, quietly talking about what the future might hold for them in their separate lives, their fingers never leaving the gentle intwine of the other. 

\---

They’re still holding hands as they exit the train in Paris- Junhui’s next train comes in about twenty minutes. They find a bench. “Do you think you’ll marry some plain girl and have kids like your parents want?” Junhui asks with only a hint of sadness seeping in, following a line of thought from their conversation on the train.

Wonwoo looks at him, laughs, and shakes his head. “No- I don’t know, I don’t think I was ever really meant to be the son they wanted, but I also don’t want to be homeless in Europe. I’ll probably take over my dad’s business, or work on my grandfather’s farm. If I have a family it will be later.”

“Do you think you’ll be happy?”

Wonwoo glances over at Junhui. “What about you?” Junhui can’t help but watch his lips when he talks. 

Slowly, he meets Wonwoo’s eyes, “I don’t know.” Junhui says earnestly. “Maybe I’ll go back to school and get a useful degree like my parents want and I can satisfy them by telling them I’m married to my job. I haven’t really thought that far ahead though.”

“What  _ are _ you thinking about?”

Junhui looks around them and then slowly back to Wonwoo. “This moment right now. I’m thinking about every detail. The number of birds on the roof of the station, the exact shade of blue the sky is… The way you look lit up by the sun. I want to remember it all.” Giving a sober sort of smile, Wonwoo nods knowingly. “And that we probably shouldn’t give each other our contact info- probably just easier that way.” Wonwoo nods again, slower this time.

“Yeah. Okay.” And so they spend the last few minutes they have quietly, just soaking in the warmth and every last detail of the fading afternoon. 

And when the train comes, Junhui gets up- steeling himself as he picks up his bag. He doesn't look at Wonwoo, he's too afraid to. Mechanically, he moves forward. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But something stops him. Their hands, still meshed together. Junhui stares at where their hands meet then up follows the gaze up Wonwoo's arm to his face, where his eyes are red, strained. It's like a punch to the gut.

"What if everything's wrong?"

"What?" Junhui asks in a small voice. 

"What if- what if you have to make the decision for yourself right now to stay with me for the night? Even if you regret it later, what if this is the right decision right now?" Wonwoo’s voice takes on an insistence, an urgency that’s jarring coming from such a laid back person. 

What if he hadn’t sat across from Wonwoo this morning? Hadn’t noticed his dark cat-like eyes under similarly dark hair? What if he hadn’t noticed that Wonwoo had been looking up from his book at him from the moment he boarded that first train in Florence? 

What if he hadn’t fallen so deeply, so quickly for Wonwoo?

Junhui just stares at him. He thinks of the courage Wonwoo has to have dropped out of school, to follow what his heart is telling him to do. Weirdly, he thinks about Joshua- a weird chance encounter- and what he would say. He wonders if Joshua’s met his friend from the internet, if they’re happy.

He’s only thinking about himself and Wonwoo spending one night together in Paris when he says, "Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, okay." And suddenly he's wrapped in Wonwoo's surprisingly strong arms and they're  _ laughing _ . They hold each other so long that the last call for passengers comes for the train and they're able to watch it leave, waving at passengers they don’t know and not caring how ridiculous they may look.

Suddenly, the prospect of an entire night stretches in front of them. A few more precious moments together. "What do you want to do?" Junhui asks breathlessly.

"Let's go to the Louvre."

Junhui's heart swells. They go to the Louvre.

Wonwoo inspects art carefully, up close, with his glasses perched high on the bridge of his nose. Junhui stands back, critical. They run into a crowd by the  _ Mona Lisa _ because of course there's a crowd, there always is. "Leonardo was a dickhead anyway."

"Strong opinions on ninja turtles today?"

Junhui looks at Wonwoo flatly. "I suppose I'm partial because I spent a lot of time studying Michelangelo when I first arrived in Florence. Spent a lot of my weekends with David."

"I'm jealous. Tall, pasty and handsome?" Wonwoo grins and knocks their shoulders together.

"Don't be," Junhui smiles wryly. "He’s tall, but his dick is small." That makes Wonwoo double over in laughter.

"Anyway, she's unsettling." Wonwoo says when he collects himself, referencing  _ Mona Lisa _ . They wander through the collection of middle ages, the renaissance and baroque which seems like it never ends. They pass Michelangelo’s  _ Rebellious Captive _ and the  _ Grand Odalisque _ . Sometimes Wonwoo stands and gapes openly at them open, it’s enchanting. Junhui had thought that the idea of a date at the Louvre had just been something Wonwoo thought Junhui would enjoy- he’s glad Wonwoo seems to enjoy it just as much.

Eventually, they end up in the antiquities among tall slender marble statues and busts. Junhui stare at them all, feeling his heart flutter happily. He still has a soft spot for Grecian art. He stands in front of the  _ Winged Angel of Samothrace _ and sketches out the wide wings in his sketchbook.

“You’re so talented.” Wonwoo breathes from behind him, watching him draw with curious eyes. His arms slide around Junhui’s middle and for once, Junhui doesn’t hide his sketchbook away. He just continues sketching, glancing over his shoulder.

Junhui laughs softly at the fond look on Wonwoo’s and shrugs. “Not nearly as talented as Minghao- I’ll never be famous or anything, but thank you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Wonwoo squeezes Junhui’s middle, putting his chin on Junhui’s shoulder. He kisses Junhui’s neck, sending shivers up Junhui’s spine. “I still want you to finish that portrait of me. I want to hang it on my wall.”

“What are you, some dictator? You want a portrait of yourself in your room?” Junhui laughs.

“Oh be quiet, would you?”

They walk together to the big open room where a crowd is gathered at the  _ Venus de Milo _ . She stands in the center of the room, all smooth and beautiful. But Junhui can feel Wonwoo’s eyes on him. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re staring  _ again _ .”

Wonwoo breaks into a grin. “Yeah.” He says, “I am.” His voice is low, fond. “Can I buy you dinner?”

Junhui smiles, the tips of his ears feeling hot. “I think I know a place.” He pulls the paper out of his pocket with the name of the place Joshua was meeting his friend. 

“What’s this?”

“The bartender in the lounge car gave it to me. He gave me some advice. It’s kind of part of the reason I stayed here with you.”

“Well then I’ll have to thank him.” Wonwoo smiles, taking Junhui’s hand as they leave the museum. 

They walk over the  _ Pont des Arts _ bridge, examining the locks. “Mingyu and Minghao put a lock last time they were here. I wonder if it’s still here?” Junhui smiles. “They remove them every once in a while so the bridge doesn’t get too heavy.”

“Isn’t that bad luck or something?”

“If you wanted something permanent you would get a tattoo or something.” Junhui laughs.

“Do you want to?”

“What?”

Wonwoo smirks and points to a little hipster looking shop advertising tattoos in the front window. “Get a tattoo?”

“You’re joking right?” Junhui asks. There’s a nervous little tick in his jaw. He’s never been a big fan of piercings or tattoos on himself- mostly out of a fear of needles and despite Minghao’s constant teasing.

“Unless you’re a coward.” Wonwoo shrugs. 

That does it.

Junhui grabs Wonwoo’s wrist, tugging him towards the shop while Wonwoo laughs. The shop isn’t busy and they have time for two stragglers off the street. Edith Piaf’s  _ Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien _ is playing, and it fills Junhui’s heart with some sort of reassurance, and the bravery to walk up to the counter. “I want a key, and he wants a lock.” Junhui explains.

Wonwoo lifts an eyebrow, but accepts it- it was his idea to come here after all and he can’t back out now. It’s so strange how comfortable he looks with this whole thing, considering that he doesn’t seem like the type to frequent tattoo studios. Junhui ends up with a small victorian looking key on the inside of his left ring finger, and Wonwoo ends up with a small heart shaped lock in the same location. It hurts like hell, but Junhui puts on a brave face- only tearing up a little bit when the artist nears his knuckle.

“You’re a bad influence.” Junhui smiles softly as they examine their tattoos together when both are done, walking towards the address Junhui was given.

Wonwoo grins and shrugs a shoulder. “I know, but. Well, I wanted something permanent with you.”

Junhui blushes around his collar, examining his very first tattoo. Minghao will probably call him stupid, but seeing the little key fills his stomach with a fluttering warmth. 

\---

It’s dark when they find their way to what turns out to be a tavern that’s full of arcade games. Wonwoo’s eyes light up, a smile threatening to tear his face open. “Nice.”

Junhui smiles too, pointing towards the side of Joshua’s head where he’s standing beside a Pac-Man machine that his date is absolutely obliterating by the looks of it. Joshua doesn’t even notice, his eyes are creased around the edges and he’s laughing happily at his date. Junhui and Wonwoo decide to leave them to their devices when Wonwoo’s stomach rumbles audibly. They sit in a booth, ordering an inane amount of food. 

They’re just finishing their appetizers- a literal fucking buffet of fried foods- when Joshua and his date come up to them. “Junhui! You made it.” 

“Joshua!” Junhui smiles, “I did.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Johsua smiles, turning to Wonwoo. “And this must be-”

“Jeon Wonwoo.” Junhui motions quickly to Wonwoo who smiles. “Oh- he doesn’t speak Italian.” 

“That’s okay, we both speak Korean too because I don’t speak Italian either.” Joshua’s date grins widely. “I’m Lee Seokmin.”

“Wen Junhui.”

“Wen Junhui? Okay. This is so strange. Do you run the art blog Moon in June?” Seokmin asks, sitting down across from him with Joshua following. 

Junhui flushes, putting his head in his hands. He peeks between his fingers at Wonwoo who looks intrigued. Of course someone would choose  _ right now _ to recognize him. “Yeah that’s… me.”

“I like your art a lot. You drew all of the  _ Yu Gi Oh! _ characters as real people right?”

Junhui lays his head on the table. “Look I had a phase okay?” He mumbles into his arms.

Wonwoo and Seokmin start laughing. “I like  _ Yu Gi Oh! _ too.” Wonwoo smiles, rubbing Junhui’s back.

It turns out they all have a lot in common, discussing weird hobbies, favorite t.v. shows and manga over drinks. Seokmin is going into video game design and that gets him and Wonwoo talking. After a while, like two kids in a candy store they both excuse themselves to go play just  _ one _ round of Street Fighter they  _ promise _ , they’ll be  _ right _ back. 

Junhui and Joshua lean closer and talk in Italian when the subject turns to Wonwoo. “Thank you… For what you said earlier on the train.”

“Ah, it’s no problem. I shouldn’t have intruded but honestly- listening to you,” Joshua smiles fondly, his eyes flitting over to where Seokmin stands mashing buttons, “it made me hopeful for meeting Seokmin. In a way I think you gave me bravery too. I haven’t felt hopeful about a relationship in a long time,” he sighs, stirring his martini, “but somehow I think we were supposed to meet on that train, is that strange?”

“Stranger things have happened today.” Junhui laughs behind his beer, tilting his head towards where Wonwoo is losing his mind and accusing Seokmin of cheating- both of them laughing. Then, he examines his new tattoo- Joshua looks like he wants to ask but thankfully doesn’t. A sigh pushes out of Junhui, a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“What are you gonna’ do when he’s gone?” Joshua asks as if reading his mind.

“I… really don’t know.” Junhui watches Wonwoo who looks back at him, grinning and waving. He offers a half hearted wave and a fond smile. “I don’t think I could stomach long distance. Not when I know that every moment away would ache. I think it’s better for both of us if we just… break it off in the morning.” 

Joshua frowns. “I understand. Hey, I’ll put my kakao in your phone and if you ever need anything just ask okay?” He takes Junhui’s phone when he’s offered it and dutifully puts his name in.

“Thank you for everything.” Junhui smiles as they both get up and share a hug then start the enormous task of dragging their counterparts away from the arcade games. It all just feels so normal- going out to the bar with friends like some kind of double date. Even their goodbyes are heartfelt- like boys who have spent their whole lives as friends and not just mere hours. 

Junhui, a little tipsy, begins to forget about their time constraint. As far as he’s concerned, they have forever.

\---

They wander aimlessly through the city streets, admiring the old architecture. The Eiffel Tower shines distantly and they follow it like some north star only to get sidetracked when they hear music playing. “Do you hear that?” Junhui asks, heading in the direction of the sound. They end up in a small square, lit up by dozens of strands of lights hung through and connecting all of the trees planted there. A DJ is playing live music and there’s a group of people of all ages dancing. 

“Uh- I don’t know- I don’t really dance.”

“Oh come on.” Junhui widens his eyes. “Please, please?” Wonwoo concedes and they leave their bags on the side while they join the crowd. It’s a song Junhui doesn’t know, but he moves to it regardless. He wiggles around, letting himself look silly and in turn, seems to put Wonwoo at ease. The next song that comes on is  _ Sucker _ by the Jonas Brothers and Junhui  _ does _ know that one. 

Junhui takes both of Wonwoo’s hands, shimmying back and forth and laughing. When the music blares, “I’m a sucker for you,” Junhui cheesily points at Wonwoo and the second time around, Wonwoo similarly points back. They both sort of bounce around, carefree, Junhui yelling the lyrics and Wonwoo trying to keep up. A few more songs go by like that before the DJ plays a soft song and they’re able to catch their breath.

Wonwoo envelopes Junhui in his arms, lips by Junhui’s ear and to Junhui’s surprise- Wonwoo knows this song. His english is so good with a hint of an accent from his time spent in London. His singing voice is much deeper than the woman’s singing, but the harmony makes Junhui feel warm. “ _ I know you think that I shouldn't still love you.Or tell you that. But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it _ .” 

_ Love _ . Junhui buries his face in Wonwoo’s neck, his hands tightening in the fabric of Wonwoo’s shirt over his shoulder blades as the song continues into the chorus. “ _ I will go down with this ship. And I won't put my hands up and surrender. There will be no white flag above my door. I'm in love and always will be. _ ” Junhui feels Wonwoo’s hands tighten at the fabric of the base of his spine, trying to pull him impossibly closer like he wants to climb into the same body. 

At the lines, “ _ I understand if you can't talk to me again. And if you live by the rules of it's over. Then I'm sure that that makes sense _ .” Junhui is overwhelmed with emotion and feels himself start to cry- dampening Wonwoo’s collar- and then they’re both crying as they rock back and forth slowly on their feet. 

Then, Wonwoo’s hands are sliding up Junhui’s back and into his hair, tilting his head to kiss him through the taste of tears on their lips. This kiss is different though, deeper than the ones they’ve shared before. It’s soul devouring, and Junhui can feel his own knuckles whitening with the effort of keeping Wonwoo close to him. Even when their lips part for air, there’s no space between them- Wonwoo’s panting, heavy on Junhui’s face. “Sorry,” he whispers breathily.

“Don’t be.” Junhui murmurs, eyes meeting Wonwoo’s. “Can we go someplace quieter?”

“Yeah- yes.” Wonwoo nods. Junhui feels boneless as they head for their bags. His footsteps on the ground are the only thing reminding him that he is, in fact, still in this plane of existence. 

They don’t talk so much as communicate through touch on their walk through town. At one point they end up in an alleyway that’s probably too narrow for them to stand shoulder to shoulder in, and Wonwoo has Junhui pinned to the wall, kissing him like he needs it. Junhui desperately scrabbles for a hold on Wonwoo’s shoulders. He hitches his leg on Wonwoo’s hip to let him get closer and the sound Wonwoo makes is nothing short of a growl. 

Wonwoo’s fingers dip beneath Junhui’s shirt, wandering along the divot of his hip. He pulls at the fabric, kissing down Junhui’s neck and breathing hard against his skin. “Fuck-” Junhui gasps, letting his head fall back. “We- not here-” He whines high in his throat when Wonwoo bites at his chest through his shirt. “Wonwoo. Let’s find a place for the night.” He manages through the heaviness of the air around them.

When Wonwoo pulls back, he looks dazed but nods. “Yeah- okay. Okay.” 

\---

It turns out there’s a motel not far. The only room left is one with two double beds, but they don’t have time or patience enough to be picky. “I’ll just lay on top of you.” Junhui says when they head away from the desk. 

“I don’t have a problem with that.” Wonwoo answers, his laughter graveling from his throat. They both can’t seem to take their hands off of the other, stopping a few times to kiss in the hallway. When they make it into the actual room, everything is a flurry of motion. Junhui throws his bag to side and Wonwoo does the same, kicking their shoes off in a pile by the door. 

They fall into a sort of frantic dance, mouths colliding needfully while they blindly maneuver the room. Junhui feels the back of his knees collide with the nearest bed and he falls back, bringing Wonwoo with him. The tiny bed groans under their weight. “Fuck-” He breathes into Wonwoo’s mouth, getting a chuckle in response. 

“Eager?” Wonwoo huffs, his mouth finding its way to Junhui’s ear and biting at the sensitive lobe gently. 

“Mmh- Not at all.” Junhui mumbles even as his trembling hands find their way to Wonwoo’s belt. Wonwoo laughs again, the vibration in his ear sending shivers down Junhui’s spine. His hands are pulled away and Wonwoo gently raises them to pin them above Junhui’s head. Wonwoo holds Junhui’s fingers in his own and settles his weight between Junhui’s hips to kiss him again more slowly- a perfect fit in the way they both tilt their heads to slide their tongues together. 

“What do you want, Jun?” Wonwoo asks softly. Junhui’s cheeks flush because his closest friends and lovers are the only ones who have ever called him Jun.

He hesitates. “I uh,” He frees one of his hands to reach up and touch Wonwoo’s cheek. “Anything. Everything- I-” Wonwoo nods and kisses him again softly before sinking down to pull Junhui’s shirt off. He leaves wet, bruising kisses down Junhui’s neck and collar- making him moan softly. “Shouldn’t you,” Junhui licks his lips and Wonwoo follows the motion with his eyes. “Your glasses?” He asks, reaching to take them from Wonwoo’s face.

“No,” Wonwoo smiles, pulling back a little. “I want to see you.”

“Oh-” Junhui flushes so hard that he thinks he can feel it in his toes. He watches Wonwoo move further, laving his tongue over one of Junhui’s nipples and then the other. His eyes are fixed on Wonwoo as he works, kissing every inch of skin he can reach. 

“Beautiful.” Wonwoo whispers. He pauses when he reaches Junhui’s hip, laying his head there gently. He seems thoughtful, hands slowly tracing the lines of Junhui’s ribcage. “When I saw you get on the train the very first time, I just knew I had to talk to you.”

“I saw you looking at me,” Junhui laughs quietly, reaching down to run his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair.

Wonwoo blushes at that. “I was so worried,  _ what if he only speaks Italian _ ?” He laughs. “I didn’t know what I was going to do then.” Wonwoo admits, carefully pulling Junhui’s jeans down and off. He looks like he’s barely breathing as he examines Junhui’s nearly nude body. Junhui stretches subcounsciously in response, his back slightly arched.

“Then you sat across from me,” Wonwoo stops to kiss Junhui’s hip bone, “ah, I felt like I had been personally blessed.” He buries his face in Junhui’s hip, and in turn Junhui isn’t sure what to say- flattered into silence. A warm laughter vibrates against Junhui’s skin that gets him squirming. 

“You were in the city of the pope- maybe he answered your prayers for a hot travel buddy.” Junhui suggests finally.

“Don’t joke! I’m being serious!” Wonwoo laughs until his eyes and nose scrunch. 

“Me too!” Junhui laughs, the sound growing louder when Wonwoo runs his fingers up Junhui’s sides. “Don’t-! Ah-! Wonu!” He giggles while being relentlessly tickled. “Stop, stop!” He says breathlessly between peals of laughter. Wonwoo stops but keeps his fingers poised until Junhui says, “If you tickle me again I won’t let you kiss me anymore.”

Wonwoo pouts, making a hands off motion. Junhui pulls him back down by the shoulders. “Quit playing,” Junhui laughs, “I’m still hard.”

“Is that so?” Wonwoo smiles and pulls off Junhui’s underwear. His demeanor is suddenly serious again, eyes darkening. Then, his hands are all over Junhui’s body again- gentle and appreciative this time. He leans up again to give Junhui a slow kiss before working his way down again. This time, he bites gently at the skin along Junhui’s hip and down his thigh then inward to his groin- nestling his face in the conjunction there. 

Junhui rolls his hips encouragingly. Suddenly Wonwoo’s mouth is sliding over the tip of Junhui’s cock, letting his tongue massage slow circles along the underside and Junhui’s seeing stars. A string of curses escapes him, his back arching as Wonwoo takes then entirety into his mouth to press against the back of his throat. He’s stays there, taking measured breaths through his nose. Junhui whines, his breaths shuddering. Then Wonwoo swallows around him, causing Junhui jolt and fuck up into Wonwoo’s throat. And Wonwoo  _ moans _ . “You- like that?”Junhui asks shakily.

As it turns out, Wonwoo doesn’t just  _ like _ it, he  _ loves  _ it. He sucks dick like he was made for it, bobbing his head eagerly- crying out when Junhui thrusts hard enough to make him gag. His fingers dig into Junhui’s thighs while he sinks down again, meeting the base before hollowing his cheeks and achingly slowly pulls up with a pop of his lips. His cheeks are red when he asks, “can I eat you out?”

“Fuck- yes- please.” Junhui can’t pick a language fast enough, switching between Korean and Italian. Wonwoo breathes more than laughs, pushing Junhui’s thighs up to his chest. Ever wanting to please, he ducks back down and opens his mouth to let the spit roll off of his tongue and drip down over Junhui’s hole. “Oh my god-” Junhui gasps because it’s probably one of- if not the hottest- things Junhui has ever witnessed. 

Wonwoo presses his tongue to Junhui’s hole, grazing his teeth over the skin there. Junhui’s hands wind themselves tightly in Wonwoo’s hair to hold him there. Slowly, Wonwoo works open Junhui’s hole. First it’s just the tip of his tongue, pressing in and out- curling while Junhui’s muscles loosen around it. Then he adds two spit slick fingers which he spreads to press his tongue in deeper which leaves Junhui mewling. He stutters out Wonwoo’s name, looking down at him with hooded eyes when Wonwoo pauses to look up at him. “Need you to fuck me- want you so bad.”

Wonwoo sits back on his heels, looking Junhui over with glittering eyes. He takes his own shirt off finally, and Junhui spots the tattoo first- a big floral piece that spreads from his shoulder, down his arm and chest and disappearing behind his back where Junhui can’t see. “That’s beautiful.” Junhui says quietly, lifting a hand to trace the gentle curve of roses.

“Thanks, a friend did it for me.” Wonwoo grins, putting his hand over Junhui’s stilling it on his shoulder. The low light in the room catches something on Wonwoo’s chest then. 

“Is that a  _ nipple piercing _ ?” Junhui gasps, scandalized. 

Wonwoo laughs, sighing when he runs his own finger over the small bar running through his nipple. “Yeah. Are you surprised?”

“ _ A little _ .” Junhui admits sheepishly. He brings his hand down and pinches at the piercing, making Wonwoo groan in surprise.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have any secret piercings or tattoos.” Wonwoo admits, laughing airily. “Aren’t art majors supposed to be edgy?”

“I’m not a normal art major apparently. Something about only wanting to be mediocre.” Junhui shrugs and laughs. “Minghao and I did LSD once freshman year, and that was about the expanse of my edgy phase. We sat in our flat and tripped for like seven hours. Minghao thought it would be good for our art, but all of it came out… Like we were on acid surprisingly enough.” He can’t help but think that this is the least sexy pillow talk he’s ever had, but it feels easy, natural with Wonwoo. He’s having  _ fun _ . It makes Wonwoo laugh, and the sound makes his stomach flutter.

“Woah. Such a bad boy, I’m into that.” Wonwoo’s lips curl up into a smile and he starts laughing at what must be the expression on Junhui’s face.

“Just take your fucking pants off already!” Junhui groans, covering his face.

Carefully, Wonwoo takes both of Junhui’s wrists in his hands and kisses both of his palms. “Never hide your face with me, Jun.” He whispers against Junhui’s hand. The gesture makes Junhui whine, pulling his hands back in an attempt to hide his face again. “ _ Never _ .” Wonwoo emphasizes by leaning down to press their lips together. “Never,” another kiss, “ever,” and another, “ever.” He mumbles the words into Junhui’s open mouth. Then he licks into Junhui’s mouth, over his tongue and teeth and even his lips. His pants are off by the time Wonwoo breaks the kiss and Junhui’s not even sure how he managed to miss that particular action. It’s almost scary how distracting kissing Wonwoo is.

If the kiss is distracting, the sight of Wonwoo naked leaves Junhui breathless and malfunctioning- it leaves his cock twitching and smearing precome across his stomach. Wonwoo’s cock is also rigid, and wet at the tip- betraying his calm demeanor. Junhui reaches down and grazes his fingers over it, watching the muscles of Wonwoo's stomach contract. "Condom?" Junhui asks weakly. Wonwoo works quickly- like he can’t stand not touching Junhui for more than a few moments- grabbing the wallet out of his pants that are discarded on the edge of the bed. He takes the condom and a tiny packet of lube out, sliding the condom on with deft fingers. He empties the lube into his palm to warm it before fucking into own hand with a groan. 

“You always keep a condom and lube handy?” Junhui asks with a huff of a laugh.

Wonwoo shrugs. “Came in handy didn’t it?” His voice comes out in a rush, cutting himself off with a soft moan.

Both of them are in a hurry now, feeling the burning need to get even closer.

Junhui nods understandingly, "Wonwoo- ” he guides the head of Wonwoo’s cock to slide over his hole. Then Wonwoo grabs Junhui’s thighs, pressing them up and letting Junhui guide him while he pushes forward. He meets little resistance and Junhui’s fingers tangle in the sheets as the tip drags past his rim. 

When Wonwoo finally presses all the way in, he leans down to kiss Junhui’s gasping lips. “Doing okay?” He asks gently, moving his lips along Junhui’s jaw, back to kiss the space below his ear. Junhui makes a quiet sound, his hands gripping at Wonwoo’s shoulders. “I can’t hear you.” He whispers, sucking at Junhui’s neck, littering it with angry reds and purples. Even when he’s gone, it will be something to remember him by at least for a while.

“Y- Yes,” Junhui sighs out, rolling his hips experimentally.

Wonwoo chokes out something between a sigh and a whimper, his fingernails digging into Junhui’s thighs that leave little crescents in their wake. After what seems like many long moments, Wonwoo starts to move, nearly pulling all the way out before pressing back in. It’s slow and almost lazy when they fall into a rhythm of rocking together. Their lips hardly separate at all while they fuck, and the only words are gentle utterances of the other’s name. 

The heat of orgasm builds slowly, steadily, and nearly takes Junhui by surprise. Wonwoo’s hand strokes Junhui’s cock insistently, his hips beginning to stutter as well. “Wonwoo I’m-” Is all Junhui manages to get out before he’s arching up and pulling Wonwoo down simultaneously, crying out into his mouth. The feeling of Junhui tightening around him is all it takes for Wonwoo to finish too, his whole body shuddering. They share a moment of tension, their bodies pressed together and sticky with sweat. Junhui falls back into the bed first, his breathing still ragged when Wonwoo settles back between his hips.

When Wonwoo moves to pull out, Junhui digs his heels into the back of Wonwoo’s thighs. He gets a little shy, “stay inside… Just for a little bit?” 

Wonwoo flushes but nods slowly and places a few more soft kisses on Junhui’s lips.

\---

“Can I make a confession, Jun?” They’ve finally separated in favor of not being grossly stuck together forever, and having cleaned up to lay smushed together on one double bed- both of them with feet sticking over the edge. 

Junhui’s mind races- his hands going clammy. He doesn’t look up from where his face is pressed against Wonwoo’s chest, cradled by his arm. He’s barely breathing when he answers, “of course.”

Wonwoo sighs into Junhui’s hair, fingers ghosting across his ribs where he can feel goosebumps rising. “I wasn’t supposed to stop in Turin with you. I was supposed to go to Milan to spend my last day.” He looks guilty when Junhui finally does look up at him. “You fell asleep and I saw that you were drawing me so I reached for your sketchbook and dropped it.” He draws tiny circles in Junhui’s hip with his thumb. “I saw your ticket and I just…” He shrugs a tiny bit. “I knew I wanted to come with you.”

Junhui releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It’s… okay.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “I mean, it  _ is _ a little weird, I guess? But this whole day has been weird and... I’m glad you did.” He whispers, turning his head to kiss Wonwoo’s chest, his fingers drawing idle circles in Wonwoo’s side. 

Wonwoo laughs gently, “me too.” He gently takes Junhui’s hand, measuring it against his own before twining their fingers together. 

There’s a loud crack of thunder outside followed by the sound of heavy rain drops hitting the window pane. Junhui places his cheek on Wonwoo’s chest, watching the rain through the gap in the curtains. “What are you going to do when you get back to Korea?” He asks softly. 

“Probably think of the wonderful stranger I met in Italy.” Wonwoo answers without thinking. A flush creeps up the back of Junhui’s neck.

“What about him?”

“Hm.” Wonwoo smiles softly. “Well, he’s absolutely gorgeous for one. Especially his eyes.” Junhui smiles softly, peering up at Wonwoo. “And the way he thinks so intensely about things sometimes, that I think he’s left this plane of existence-”

“Hey-”

Wonwoo laughs, kissing the top of his head. “The way he laughs until his voice goes up several octaves. And how even when he doesn’t mean to, he’s drawing. I don’t even think he realizes that he does it. Shapes into tables, on train windows, on skin. It’s one of my favorite things about him.”

Junhui folds up tighter against Wonwoo’s side, hiding his face. His fingers stop drawing and curl into a fist to rest on his chest. His eyes unfocus as rain continues to pelt the window. He envisions himself watching the two of them together, trying to absorb the visual of it all. 

“Jun? You still with me?” Wonwoo’s voice is low, like he might be falling asleep.

“Yeah.” Junhui whispers, continuing to draw shapes into Wonwoo’s skin where he’d stopped.

“You met a stranger too right?”

A tiny laugh escapes Junhui. “He isn’t so much a stranger anymore.” He mumbles fondly. “In fact, I feel like I’ve known him for a very long time even if that isn’t true.” Wonwoo hums thoughtfully. There’s a long silence, and Wonwoo’s breathing deepens even as Junhui clings to him tightly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when he’s gone.” Junhui whispers, lost.

There’s no answer- even if Wonwoo was awake, there would be no answer; because what do you say when you knew all along your heart was going to be broken?

Junhui tries to sleep.

\---

When morning comes, Junhui feels steeled against the world. It must only be around 5:00 judging by the miniscule amount of light coming through the window. It’s still raining, the backdrop of the city hazy. Junhui carefully climbs out of bed, examining himself in the full length mirror on the closet door. His fingers brush against the little bruises along his neck and he sighs- thinking of Minghao. Knowing him, he’s already on the flight to Amsterdam which means he’ll be sleep deprived and probably more than a little on edge. Junhui can only imagine what kind of messages he’s going to get when Minghao gets to their hotel and finds out Junhui hasn’t checked into their suite for them yet. Then for Junhui to show up, neck bruised and sleepless. He sighs again, looking over his shoulder at Wonwoo’s sleeping form.

He’s struck by the urge to draw him, and so he does, brewing a cup of tea in the little coffee maker before sitting at the tiny table by the window with his legs crossed. He warms up by drawing Wonwoo’s face a few times, then on the next page, Wonwoo’s nude form covered in roses and thorns originating from the tattoo on his shoulder and which wrap around him to obstruct his face and wrap in between his legs to give him some semblance of dignity. He stares at his drawing after it’s finished until he hears Wonwoo’s voice, low and hoarse. “Junhui?”

“I’m right here.” His voice sounds foreign in his own ears. 

“That’s too far.” Wonwoo stretches, groaning softly. He speaks almost pleasantly, and Junhui wants to feel irritated by that, but his stomach only sinks lower. “What time is it?”

Junhui shrugs faintly. “My phone is by the bed.” 

Wonwoo reaches for it, glancing at the time. “Six-thirty.” His eyebrows pinch together faintly, eyes moving over the screen. “You have a few missed calls from Minghao.”

“I know.” Junhui breathes, closing his sketchbook without looking at Wonwoo. “I mean, I figured. I’ll take care of it when I’m on the train. The first one I can catch leaves at eight.” He draws shapes into the table with his finger, and stops when he catches himself doing it. His skin burns where he can feel Wonwoo’s eyes staring straight into his soul. He takes a drink of his mostly cold tea.

“My flight leaves at eight-thirty.”

Junhui nods mechanically. “Okay.”

Wonwoo gets out of bed, reaches for Junhui to thread his fingers through his hair, but the gesture falls short and he just lets it fall to his side again. “I’m- taking a quick shower.”

“Okay.” Junhui says, pulling his knees to his chest. He hides his face in his still bare legs, letting Wonwoo busy himself around the room. His eyes, heavy with tears, traverse the room when Wonwoo closes the bathroom door. He wants so badly to go into the bathroom, to feel Wonwoo’s skin against his own again. But he wants to be strong, doesn’t want to feel hurt over something he knew was never meant to exist for long. 

Junhui dresses himself in a white tee and black sweatpants, nothing like the nice outfit he’d worn yesterday. He doesn’t feel like himself today anyway. 

A  _ few _ missed calls means six to be exact, and a bombardment of messages- a few, even, from Mingyu. Junhui swipes away the notifications in favor of taking a picture of his drawing from the morning, opening his blog. He posts the picture with the caption in Italian, Korean and Chinese:

_ I have no right to be this heartbroken, but you don't often meet someone who changes your life so quickly. I'm glad for the time we had together. _

It hardly feels like enough words to justify his feelings, but he doesn’t exactly have time to unpack any of that right now. Junhui closes his sketchbook and posts his blog, slipping his phone into his pocket. When Wonwoo walks out, he’s fully clothed, his hair styled and his glasses in their place on his nose. All traces of the previous night, gone. Junhui brushes past him on the way to the bathroom, half expecting to be stopped, grabbed,  _ something _ . But it doesn’t happen, Wonwoo lets him by where he locks himself in the still humid bathroom to lean against the counter heavily. He doesn’t bother with his tousled hair, doesn’t look at himself while he brushes his teeth.

When he comes out, Wonwoo is standing in the middle of the room like he doesn’t know what to do with himself- like if he got too comfortable he might stay here forever. “I’m uh. Ready when you are.” Junhui sighs, picking up his bag.

Wonwoo nods almost imperceptibly, letting Junhui get ahead of him while they walk outside. He hesitates before he stops Junhui. “Wait, Jun, your sketchbook.” He holds it out with a trembling hand.

“Thank you,” Junhui whispers, taking it gently. He catches sight of their tattoos, two pieces of the same artwork. Finally, he can’t resist anymore, he throws himself into Wonwoo’s arms and hides his face in Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Thank you for everything.”

Wonwoo squeezes him tightly, kissing the side of his head. He breathes a sigh of relief as if he thought that everything would end horribly stilted and like they were strangers again. “If you’re ever in Korea, look me up.” He laughs quietly- the sound hollow.

“You too, if you’re ever in Italy.” Junhui mumbles. He thinks of giving Wonwoo his phone number, but remembers just how much distance can ruin a relationship- how much it can hurt. It’s better this way, for them to both move on as they were going to. They separate slowly, still holding hands gently as they move in their respective directions. “Have a safe flight.”

“Don’t fall for some boy on the train to Amsterdam.” Their arms stretch until just their fingers are twisted together.

Junhui laughs tearfully, shaking his head. “One was enough, thanks.”

Wonwoo laughs in kind, his eyes sparkling, “Bye, Junhui.”

“See you, Wonwoo.” Their fingertips are the last thing to separate, finally snapping the thread between them.

Just like that, Wonwoo’s walking out of his life- whistling the same song from last night. It’s almost unceremonious in its way. Dreamlike, Junhui watches Wonwoo’s back disappear into the growing crowd on the sidewalk before he departs. The tears he’s been holding onto start falling, and Junhui can’t seem to stop them no matter how desperately he wipes at them. He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket, but he doesn’t look at it.

\---

Somehow, Junhui arrives at the train station in a daze- eyes glazed and tears having dried up. The train is calling its last call for passengers and Junhui runs on board. He finally opens his phone when he gets on the train to text Minghao and Mingyu in their group chat. He doesn’t bother to read what they’ve said, or listen to voice-mails.

_ ‘be there in 3 hours. rly sorry.’ _

Junhui watches the rain and scenery out the window, just as he had planned to do when he left Florence. Except for the growing black hole in his heart, it’s like nothing ever happened. 

He starts flipping through his sketchbook, but he finds that, impossibly, the sketches of Wonwoo have all been torn out- even the first one he’d drawn before falling asleep on the train. Then, he remembers Wonwoo’s hand holding the book out to him. “Idiot.  _ Stupid _ .” Junhui sighs, covering his face between the blank pages. 

His phone buzzing again makes him sigh raggedly. But to his surprise, it’s not Minghao, instead it’s Joshua.

**_Shua:_ ** _ ‘Hey. Seok saw your blog post. Wanted to make sure you were doing alright.’ _

Junhui smiles softly, letting his head fall against the window. 

**_Jun:_ ** _ ‘tbh? not really but the check in was thoughtful. thanks.’ _

**_Shua:_ ** _ ‘Yeah dude. You and him will probably meet again anyway- that’s how soulmates work.’ _

Junhui stares at the words on the screen and shakes his head, locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. He doesn’t know if he and Wonwoo are soulmates or whatever but he doesn’t want to keep his hopes up like that.

The train ride lasts forever with Junhui ignoring his phone, and the only thing he can think to draw is Wonwoo’s face and that’s not an option. So he spends his time zoning out, staring out the window which ends up being a curse because he makes eye contact with Minghao as soon as the train pulls into the station at Amsterdam. His arms are crossed over his chest, looking terse. Mingyu stands with a hand on Minghao’s shoulder, looking very much like he’s trying to keep him grounded.

Junhui walks off the train, bag slung over his shoulder and into the waiting claws of Xu Minghao. “What  _ were _ you thinking?” Minghao hisses in Mandarin- something he reserves for when he’s very serious.

“Listen-” Junhui concedes in Italian, holding up his hands and trying to calm things down before they can get out of hand.

“No  _ you _ listen,” Minghao’s grip tightens on Junhui’s shoulders. “Meeting someone is fine, whatever happened on that train- it’s- if that made you happy, well then so am I.” Junhui wants to tell him that he doesn’t  _ sound _ happy, but he doesn’t feel like incurring Minghao’s wrath- not today. “But not  _ telling me _ ? Not telling  _ anyone _ ? Not answering your phone? Gē, what were you  _ thinking _ ?”

Junhui looks up at Mingyu who looks away guiltily as if to say ‘you’re all on your own’. He finally responds in Mandarin, a little defeated. “I wasn’t, okay? I know that-”

“When I showed up at the hotel and they told me you hadn’t checked in yet- I-” Minghao stops, pulling Junhui into him. “You’re so  _ stupid  _ and- and  _ reckless _ .” He grabs Junhui’s face in both hands, and his eyes scan over it.

“I know.” Junhui mumbles miserably. He avoids matching the gaze.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Minghao sighs heavily. “I love you gē.”

“I love you too, Hao.” Junhui looks between Minghao and Mingyu, switching to Korean. “I really am sorry for worrying you both.”

“You must’ve been speaking a lot of Korean lately- you usually default to Italian these days,” Mingyu breaks into a grin, “so… who  _ is _ this guy?”

And so they head back to the hotel while Junhui fills them in about his escape with Wonwoo, about the way Wonwoo had treated him like he was something precious- even from the beginning. How he had schemed his way into spending more time with Junhui because he had a Eurail pass which meant he could essentially take any train. By the time they had reached Paris, Junhui was in love and selfishly, he hadn’t wanted to let go.

Minghao understood, nodding even in parts where it seemed like he might want to get protective- might’ve wanted to stop it from happening just to prevent the ensuing heartbreak. He just  _ listened _ , to  _ all of it _ . Minghao even sits in the bathroom while Junhui takes a much needed shower. “It sounds like you had a good time with him,” he says thoughtfully. “Why didn’t you just get his number?”

“You know why.” Junhui sighs into the heat of the shower. 

“Do I?”

“Soonyoung?” Junhui says a little painfully.

“He sounds nothing like Soon.” Minghao says stiffly from where he’s perched on the bathroom counter. “Soonyoung was just mad you chose me as your best friend over your relationship with him.”

“It wasn’t my fault you two never told me you had dated, I just thought you didn’t get along because of your personalities.” Junhui laughs. “Besides, he didn’t seem to care that much about  _ you, _ and he was always supportive of us going to Italy. Maybe I’m just really bad with relationships like he said.”

“You didn’t seem to have trouble with this Wonwoo from what you told me,” Minghao points out.

“It was one day.” Junhui sighs. “And stop calling him  _ this Wonwoo _ , you sound like my grandfather.”

“So you didn’t get his number because you’re scared it won’t always just… magically work out?” Minghao says so quietly that Junhui almost doesn’t hear him over the water. 

Junhui wishes the shower floor would swallow him whole so he doesn’t have to hear Minghao touch on all of his insecurities anymore. “I just would rather things end on a good note than a sour one.” 

“If you aren’t happy, then is it really a good note?” Minghao asks, almost sternly.

“I can’t change things now.”

Minghao sighs, and Junhui can see his outline sagging through the curtain. “You’re right, I’ll stop bothering you. I just don’t want to see you hurting. You’re smart, Junhui. If this is what you thought you had to do- then I guess I have to support it as your best friend. I’ll always be here for you, a shoulder to cry on and all that.”

“Thanks, Hao.” Junhui says, leaning around the shower curtain to look at him. “Oh… I forgot, we got matching tattoos.” He says grinning and holding out his finger.

“You what?” Minghao looks stunned and horrified. “Weren’t the hickeys enough?” He takes Junhui’s hand and examines the little key with a sort of shocked fascination.

“He got a lock.” Junhui says, more than a little proud.

“You overcame your fear of needles for this dude? Maybe he’s not so bad.” Minghao winks, though his smile is tight, uncertain. “Come on, we’re going to be fashionably late for my own gallery opening.”

When Minghao leaves the bathroom and Junhui is left to think while he finishes, his mind wanders to the hotel room with Wonwoo- the feeling of feverish skin on his own. How nice it would have been to climb into the shower behind Wonwoo in the morning, taking their time together, and letting the last precious minutes together be spent basking in each other.

Junhui leans his forehead against the shower wall, what a fool he was to let those last precious moments slip between his fingers.

It’s when he’s getting dressed that Junhui finds it, placed neatly on top of his clothes in his bag, a worn copy of  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ . On the outside cover is a circle of languorous faeries lounging around a tree, on the inside cover, there’s a note.

_ Junhui, _

_ There aren’t enough words in the world to tell you how much being with you has meant to me. It’s strange to say, but more than anyone I’ve ever met, I feel like I was meant to meet you. Writing this, there’s only a wall separating us, but I feel so lonely already. I know we agreed on not contacting each other because the distance would only hurt, but that doesn’t mean I want to forget you. Ever.  _

_ This is my favorite copy of this book (I’ve had it since I was eleven), please take care of it- and yourself. _

_ Yours, _

_ Jeon Wonwoo _

In the span of time it takes them to get to the gallery, Junhui doesn’t stop crying- but still insists on going to the opening. Even being surrounded by friends and colleagues, and Minghao’s family- who treats him like their own- does nothing to distract him from the ache in his chest.

It simply wasn’t fair. The world had only given Wen Junhui hours to fall in love with Jeon Wonwoo, had taken it all in a matter of minutes, and now it felt like all the time in the world was never going to be enough to forget.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Epilogue_ **

The airport is hardly crowded, but somehow it feels stifling, like every eye he meets can see right through him. Wonwoo isn’t one for crying, but sitting alone in front of his gate he can feel the well of tears in his eyes. It doesn’t sit right, heavy like a shirt that’s wet with rain when you get caught in a storm. Wonwoo checks his phone obsessively, like somehow Junhui will be able to contact him- to call him and tell him to come to Amsterdam. To stop him from making some giant mistake by leaving Europe for good.

His shaking fingers dial Jihoon’s number on facetime instead, before he can even think about it. It takes a while, but JIhoon answers, squinting into the phone tiredly. “Jeon? Are you home already?” He lifts one pierced eyebrow, rubbing his eyes and yawning. 

“Sorry to wake you.” Wonwoo mumbles. “No, but my flight leaves soon.”

Jeonghan stretches and groans behind Jihoon, curling, cat-like, around him and setting his chin on Jihoon’s shoulder. “Well, are you ready to come back to London then?” He stretches out a long tattooed arm, flicking his finger towards the camera like he’s trying to flick Wonwoo’s forehead through the camera.

Wonwoo laughs sadly. “I was ready as soon as I left, hyung.” 

“But that’s not what’s wrong.” Jihoon says pointedly, sitting up and lifting his blanket to cover his bare chest. Jeonghan presses closer so he’s able to see, and Jihoon covers him with the blanket too but not before he flashes Wonwoo. “Quit showing off.” Jihoon elbows Jeonghan’s ribs, making them both giggle.

Jeonghan smiles, kissing Jihoon’s temple before turning back to the phone. The look on Wonwoo’s face must sober him up because he sits straighter, his eyebrows pinching together. “Wonwoo?”

“Sorry. I uh… I just miss you guys.”

Jihoon squints like he’s looking into Wonwoo’s soul, the muffled sound of his tongue ring hitting his teeth as he thinks. “So what’s wrong?” He asks, clucking his tongue with a sense of finality.

Wonwoo sighs, “it’s going to sound stupid.”

“You always sound stupid,” Jeonghan smiles, wrinkling his nose. “So what is it, Wonu?”

Wonwoo feels dizzy- usually he keeps his feelings close to his heart. But he feels like he might burst if he holds onto this any longer. Jeonghan and Jihoon are his only confidants. His fingers tangle in his own hair while he tries to phrase it. “I think… I fell in love?” Smooth.

Their mouths fall open in sync which makes Wonwoo laugh a little bit. “Thanks, guys.”

“I mean,” Jeonghan explains, lifting Jihoon’s jaw off the ground for him with a finger under his chin, “it’s not exactly small news is it?”

“When?” Jihoon whispers

“How?” Jeonghan adds.

Wonwoo launches into the story, telling them about Junhui, how beautiful he is, how smart and talented, their tattoos, which he shows off proudly to Jeonghan’s mild horror and amusement- everything he can think of. He just unloads it all. His eyes are wet by the time he’s done explaining, and he looks anywhere but at the screen of his phone. He’s half expecting them to laugh, but there’s silence until he finally looks at them. 

“What are you doing waiting for a fucking plane?” Jihoon hisses. “I can’t believe  _ I _ had to tell you that you we’re allowed to drop out of school for your own health, and now  _ I _ have to tell you to fucking go find this man?”

The tips of Wonwoo’s ears start to burn, Jihoon’s frankness burning through him. “How am I supposed to find him in all of Amsterdam? You know how ridiculous that would be?”

“There can’t be that many art openings for someone named Minghao in  _ Amsterdam. In one day _ . You know giving up something like that is completely and utterly...” Jeonghan trails off and rolls his eyes, pulling out his phone. “ _ Dumb _ .” Jeonghan huffs under his breath. His eyes scan his phone for a while, all tight lipped and furrowed eyebrows. “Does the Outsider Museum ring a bell?”

Wonwoo is out of his seat, pacing away from the gate. “Yeah- he did say something about that.” Something prickles in Wonwoo’s heart. He knows this is probably stupid, there’s a chance that Junhui doesn’t even want to see him. But the heavy thudding in his heart tells him he has to try- Jeonghan’s right, it would be stupid to accept it lying down. 

“I like this new Jeon Wonwoo who really knows what he wants.” Jihoon smiles, leaning his head on Jeonghan’s shoulder. They look like proud parents who just watched their son get married.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.” He says before hanging up.

\---

  
  


The next train to Amsterdam doesn’t arrive for another hour. Wonwoo spends his time pacing anxiously along the platform. His brain is simultaneously buzzing and completely blank. He can’t bring himself to think of the consequences of missing his flight, of not going home to his parents. Leaving school had been a difficult decision- he felt like a failure- that Jihoon really  _ had _ to talk Wonwoo into it for his own sake. The pressure of succeeding had swallowed him whole. 

But this decision is easy, like breathing. He didn’t really have to be convinced so much as reaffirmed. 

The train arrives exactly five minutes late and for every minute, Wonwoo feels like his brain might melt out of his head. He grips the handle of his bag tightly, practically running onto the train. It’s blessedly almost completely empty on board. Wonwoo just wishes Junhui would come rushing on after him, but things could never be so easy.

The train, he finds, it’s actually a really lonely place. The few people who are riding are sealed in their own little bubbles of space, usually with headphones in or a book to read or both. It takes Wonwoo a solid hour to get comfortable enough to do anything other than examine the little lock tattoo on his finger. He can’t concentrate on a book, but he puts his headphones in and tries to zone out. 

It’s longer still until Wonwoo pulls out a few gently folded pieces of paper from his pocket, carefully smoothing them out. He traces the lines of his own body on the paper and the carefully sketched roses, seeming vibrant despite the fact that they’re only shaded in pencil. Wonwoo chews on his bottom lip, letting his head tip back against the seat. The fact that Junhui sees him,  _ this _ beautiful, all planes of muscle among the soft curvature of rose petals like some sort of statuesque marble makes his heart do strange things in his chest. 

Even with his eyes closed, he’s able to trace the deep indentations of the drawing on the paper. His eyes ache with tears and lack of any meaningful sleep. Even his body feels heavy, sinking deeper into the seat. 

“Sir? Is this your stop?”

“Hn? Junhui?”

“What? I said is this your stop? Sir we’re in Amsterdam.”

“Oh shit.” Wonwoo sits straight up, rubbing his eyes tiredly without even bothering to push his glasses up. Flustered when he realizes the drawings of him are still on his lap, he folds them and tucks them away. There’s a blush bleeding into his face when he says, “thank you.” He rushes past the woman in front of him, doesn’t spare a second glance in her direction even when he grabs his bag. He practically runs off of the train, toting his rolling suitcase behind him. 

The rush of adrenaline fills his body with a thrumming. His mind can only think of Junhui somewhere standing in an art gallery, appreciating a culmination of his best friend’s hard work. He wonders if Junhui’s thinking of him, imagining Wonwoo on a plane, maybe. Or maybe not even thinking of Wonwoo at all, maybe he’s too distracted by his friends. That possibility, he pushes out of his mind completely, there’s no way Junhui isn’t thinking about him. He thumbs the drawings in his pocket confidently.

Junhui  _ must _ be thinking about him, he can practically feel his skin prickling with it.

It’s still raining, even here several countries away. Wonwoo wanders around the train station until he finds a man selling overpriced umbrellas. He knows his card is seriously lacking in funds because of the non-refundable flight he’s just missed, but he tries it anyway.

_ Declined. _

Wonwoo, irritated, tries it again with the same result. He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily.  _ It’s just a little rain _ . He looks out the window of Amsterdam Centraal for a long moment. “Thanks anyway.” He mumbles to the man, turning on his heel and heading back towards a row of benches. A cab is probably out since he can’t even afford an umbrella.  _ Walking it is. Okay _ .

Wonwoo packs Junhui’s drawings away safe in his bag, taking out a black turtleneck sweater that he slips over his t-shirt. It’s a forty minute walk according to his phone which is nearly dead,  _ of course _ . Luckily, it’s a near straight shot to the Outsider Museum. 

It’s only drizzling when Wonwoo leaves, nearly jogging. It’s not nearly as bad as he’s expecting when he starts off, but after around twenty minutes it starts to pour- the sky opening up with a crack of thunder. Wonwoo powers through another few minutes before he feels the rain soaking through his sweater. He ducks into a cafe, holding his head as he sits down- spending his last few euros on an Americano. 

Then, he sits at a table by the window to plug his phone in- immediately calling Jihoon. He can’t help but imagine how pathetic he looks, his hair hanging in heavy wet waves around his face and dripping down onto the table. 

When Jihoon answers after the fourth ring, he’s sitting in Jeonghan’s tattoo studio in his own little piercing room. “Hello- oh Wonwoo. What’s up?”

“Hey are you busy?”

Jihoon hesitates, glancing at something across the room. “Nn… No? You look miserable, what’s up?”

“If you’re busy, just tell me.”

“Shut up, it’s fine. Why do you look like a kicked puppy?”

“I’m hanging up.” Wonwoo huffs.

“Wait-” Jihoon sighs, “let me do this tongue piercing and I’ll call you back.”

Wonwoo just laughs and nods. 

He gratefully accepts his Americano, sipping at it slowly. His eyes just linger on his phone screen. He can’t help but feel a little sorry for himself, Jihoon was right- he’d looked pathetic on camera. The sweater as well as his hair clings to him, his eyelashes stuck together and his glasses foggy.  _ Suck it up _ , he tries to tell himself,  _ and keep walking _ . 

As if on cue the rain gets impossibly harder against the windows, sounding like pebbles raining down. Wonwoo holds his head in his hands. His phone pings suddenly, and it’s not Jihoon like he expects.

**_Paypal:_ ** _ You’ve received 50€ from Yoon Jeonghan! _

Wonwoo blinks at the notification for several long, dumbstruck minutes before opening it.

He doesn’t even get a chance to read the whole note that starts eloquently with, ‘ _ you stupid fucker _ ’- before his phone is ringing.

“Hello?”

“You look like  _ shit _ , Jihoon was right.” 

“Ah, hyung, you know I can’t take this money.” Wonwoo huffs. 

Jeonghan levels him with a gaze, annoyed. “Shut up and buy a fucking umbrella, would you?  _ God _ , you’re hopeless.”

A weak smile flits over Wonwoo’s lips. “Surprisingly, this isn’t making me feel better.”

“Are you  _ sure _ ? Because I  _ definitely _ just saw a smile on your face, Jeon Wonwoo.” Jeonghan wheedles, grinning. 

Jihoon suddenly leans over his shoulder. “Hey, did you get the money?”

Wonwoo sighs. “You know I can’t-”

“Jeon.” Jihoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “We would go  _ poor _ for you. Now, can you please stop wallowing. I hate it when you do that.” Jeonghan nods beside him in stern agreement. “Can you please go find the boy of your dreams and stop being so damn sad? You’re  _ killing _ me.”

Wonwoo blushes, and looks away from him phone. “I just… What if he doesn’t want to see me after all? Especially looking like this? In front of his friends?” The idea of meeting Junhui’s fancy art friends- one who’s known enough to have a show in a contemporary art museum in a foreign country- sends waves of anxiety rippling through Wonwoo’s brain.

They groan in unison, bodies sagging against one another. “The smart and responsible Wonwoo I know doesn’t fall for boys that don’t think of him. And he  _ certainly  _ doesn’t miss thousand euro flights to admit his undying love for them.” Jeonghan says.

Wonwoo smiles shyly, running a hand through his still damp hair. “Thank you.” He says softly, ducking his head. “You guys are the best. I uh- might need a place to stay for awhile before we figure things out.”

“You’re always welcome here.” They smile serenely, almost proud before hanging up.

\---

  
  


Wonwoo hails a cab. Fumbles through the words needed to get to the place- to the person he’s going to. 

It hits him suddenly and frantically, a thudding against his chest and exploding bright lights in his brain.  _ Home _ . 

His body sings with it as the museum comes into sight. He’s going  _ home _ to  _ Junhui _ . 

Wonwoo grips his bag tightly, ducking through the rain and up to the door. A man, dressed nicely with a badge that reads  _ security _ stops him. “Name?”

“Jeon Wonwoo- or uh- Wonwoo Jeon.” He says in a rush. “I’m not on the list. But I-”

“Sorry,” The security guard says, motioning to clipboard in his hand. “The event is closed, if you’re not on the list, I can’t let you in.”

“But my-”

“No exceptions, get lost.”

Wonwoo grits his teeth, nodding vaguely. He doesn’t know where he’s going when he turns around, doesn’t realize he’s following laughter around the side of the building until he’s standing right in front of them. Two men, one slightly taller, the other a little less friendly, sharper- they’re good looking as they lean against the building, passing a cigarette back and forth and standing so close they must be breathing the same smoke filled air. There are matching silver bands on their left ring fingers, with inscriptions that Wonwoo can’t read.

The shorter one with long black hair- ears covered in piercings to rival Jihoon’s- notices him first, quirking a perfectly structured eyebrow. “Uh,” He eyes the taller one and flicks his eyes towards Wonwoo until they’re both staring at him, dripping with rain and barely close enough to be under the cover of the awning. “Hello?” He has a strange accent, European in nature mixed with Chinese Wonwoo thinks- it’s similar to Junhui’s.  _ Minghao _ , a little voice in his head supplies.

“Can we help you?” The taller one says, tilting his head- his English sounds more comfortable than Minghao’s. 

“I need to get inside.” Wonwoo says, a little dumbly. There’s a spark of… recognition? In Minghao’s eyes.

“This is his show, and we don’t know you so-”

“No.” Minghao says quickly, switching from English to Korean. “We do know him- I think.” He purses his lips more than smiles, his jaw tight.

The other one-  _ Mingyu _ , Wonwoo remembers a little belatedly- looks at Minghao like he’s lost it, his lips parted uncertainly. “What?”

There’s a pause where Minghao takes a long drag from his cigarette, his sharp eyes, predatory on Wonwoo. “If you came here just to leave again, save yourself the trouble and turn around.” His voice is harsh when he speaks this time, defensive. 

Mingyu puts a hand on Minghao’s shoulder, but he looks pensive. “Wonwoo?” He asks, and his voice is deeper, less conversational.

Wonwoo feels sheepish. “That’s me.”

“I’m Mingyu,” gently, he takes Minghao’s hand, “this is Minghao. Sorry he’s grumpy, it’s been a long day.”

“He’s the reason-”

“I didn’t miss a non-refundable flight back home just to leave again.” Wonwoo says firmly, standing his ground.

Minghao’s lips twitch upward and he stubs out his cigarette. There’s a notable change in his demeanor when Wonwoo becomes defensive. He sighs and peers up at Mingyu, softening. When he looks back to Wonwoo, he’s  _ almost _ smiling. “Junhui’s inside.”

Wonwoo lights up at that, stepping forward. “Can we…?”

Minghao nods, swiping a keycard on the door and holding the door while Mingyu files in with Wonwoo following. 

He continues to follow through the halls of the museum until they come to a central gallery, the doorway is outlined in gold paint.

_ ‘Kintsugi  _ _ 金継ぎ - the art of erasing perfection’  _ reads the title beside the door, next to a little panel explaining the show. Minghao flourishes faintly. “Here it is.”

“Isn’t  _ kintsugi _ a Japanese concept?”

Minghao looks impressed, nodding faintly. “The Chinese eh- borrowed it, my grandmother passed down a whole tea set of  _ kintsugi _ ware to me- they’re on display along with the rest of the show.” 

Wonwoo hums curiously, looking around. But the thing that catches his eye is a large piece of canvas in the middle at the back- nearly taking up the whole of the back wall. On it, there are huge portraits- some of them familiar- obviously drawn in Junhui’s style first but painted over in Minghao’s bold and thick style, gold outlines standing out remarkably with the gallery lights shining down on it. 

**Xu Minghao, Wen Junhui**

_ Pieces of Family (2018) _

_ Oil, charcoal on linen _

_ 305 cm x 357 cm _

Despite their beauty under the light of the gallery, and their impressive size, they don’t compare to the silhouette of Junhui haloed in the light of the reflection from the gold paint, sitting on the bench facing the piece. His shoulders sag, but Wonwoo feels his own heart soaring. Though, he hesitates, taking a few steps forward before looking back at Minghao.

“Go on,” He whispers. For the first time, Minghao looks warm and he moves to wrap his arms around one of Mingyu’s. 

Wonwoo nods and moves forward thoughtlessly until he’s sitting down next to Junhui. “It’s beautiful.”

“Mhm.”

Wonwoo dares to peer over, studying Junhui’s tear streaked face. “Junhui.” He whispers, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “Look at me.”

The shock registers on Junhui’s face before he’s even at a three quarter turn. “Won… Woo?” His voice cracks in surprise. His eyes flicker from Wonwoo’s face to Minghao. “Can-” Junhui pauses, to address Minghao and Mingyu, hand hesitating in the space between them. “You can see him, right?”

Minghao laughs,  _ genuinely laughs _ out loud. “Yes, we can see him.”

Junhui bursts into peals of laughter between wracking sobs, and it’s like the sun bursting out from behind the clouds when he buries his face in Wonwoo’s shoulder- still wet from the rain, but Junhui doesn’t seem to mind. “Wonwoo!” And suddenly the whole room is thrumming with their combined relieved laughter as they hold onto each other. “What are you doing here?” He asks, breathless and clinging tightly to Wonwoo’s sweater.

“Finding you, what else?” Wonwoo laughs against his ear, carding his fingers through Junhui’s hair. 

“You... You’re not going home?” Junhui asks slowly, pulling back to look into Wonwoo’s face searchingly. 

Wonwoo simply smiles and moves his hand around to cradle Junhui’s cheek. “I’m already home.” 

“That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.” Junhui laughs until his eyes crinkle, and is still laughing, tears streaming, when he leans in and presses a kiss to Wonwoo’s lips. They stay that way for a long time, trading kisses. And for once Wonwoo finds he’s not worried about the future in the least. 

They can hammer out all the details later, in their _own time._

\---

**Six Months Later, November**

Despite how easily he falls asleep, Wonwoo finds that Junhui is  _ always _ an early riser. He insists it’s the best time to get all the creativity out, because his brain is still not quite awake which leaves it open to imperfection and a looser way of thinking about things. Wonwoo had wanted to point out that there was a difference between delirium and creativity, but doing art in the morning seemed to make Junhui happy and Wonwoo couldn’t begrudge that. 

Like clockwork, Junhui wakes between seven and seven-thirty every day. It used to wake Wonwoo up,  _ every time _ , but now he finds more often than not he wakes alone in bed- which inevitably ends up with him whining until Junhui returns from his conjoined studio to soothe him.

It’s one of the rare occasions that Junhui’s still in bed next to him when Wonwoo rubs the sleep from his eyes. He smiles softly, and reaches out to skim his fingers over Junhui’s ribs and down over his hip admiringly. In times like this he’s struck by how  _ full _ his chest feels and he can’t help but kiss the soft skin behind Junhui’s ear or along his jaw. Junhui doesn’t even stir, he’s been working hard on figuring out a wedding present for Minghao and Mingyu so it doesn’t really come as a surprise that he must have stayed up late judging by the pastels still smeared on his cheek. 

Wonwoo decides to let him sleep, sitting up and putting his glasses on before grabbing his laptop. He doesn’t even have it open when he hears a grumble from beside him. “No writing-” Junhui mumbles into the pillow, making Wonwoo strain to understand him. After a moment, he turns his head so at least his mouth is free from fabric and smacks his lips. “No writing in bed.”

“So you  _ are _ awake.” Wonwoo laughs at that, setting his laptop aside again and shifting slightly towards Junhui.

“Hardly.” He snorts, stretching his legs until his feet are sticking out from under the covers which are bunched around his hips. “Why did you stop touching me?” 

A laugh bubbles in Wonwoo’s chest that he bites back with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “You’re cute.” He crowds in, half draping himself over Junhui. If this was the only thing he could do for the rest of his life, he would be satisfied with that. A heavy contented sigh leaves Junhui, his breath fanning warmly against Wonwoo’s skin. 

For a while he thinks Junhui might have fallen back asleep, his breathing even and deep, until he starts talking again this time muffled by Wonwoo’s chest. “Who would you cast to play you in a movie?” The question tickles across his skin, causing a shiver to run up his back. 

“Easy. Ezra Miller.” Wonwoo answers confidently. “Next question.”

Junhui huffs like he’s not satisfied. “Ezra Miller?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s not even  _ Asian _ .” Junhui whines, moving to squint his sleepy eyes up at Wonwoo.

“Okay, but he is  _ really _ hot, right?”

Junhui shrugs a shoulder, pouting. “I guess so.”

“Alright then, bigshot,” laughs Wonwoo. “Who would you pick?”

“Jackie Chan.” Junhui answers flatly, though his bottom lip wobbles like he wants to laugh.

“Jackie. Chan.” Wonwoo lifts an eyebrow. “You’re fucking with me.”

“No! He knows martial arts, he’s totally cool.”

Wonwoo looks at Junhui suspiciously until Junhui has to bury his laughter in Wonwoo’s chest. He tries to pull himself together and look at Wonwoo only to burst into  _ more _ giggles. Then Junhui tries again, pursing his lips again the urge to laugh again. “Ezra Miller-” he chokes out a noise and cuts himself off again.

“What is it?” Wonwoo chuckles, finding Junhui’s laughter irresistibly contagious. 

Junhui finally sits up, tears shining in his eyes. “Ezra Miller and Jackie Chan kissing on a train.” He practically sobs with laughter, throwing himself down on the mattress. Wonwoo starts laughing too because okay that  _ is _ funny. 

“Isn’t that basically the plot of  _ Rush Hour 3 _ ?”

It takes Junhui a moment to wind himself down. “Jeon Wonwoo, please don’t tell me  _ Rush Hour 3 _ is not a movie you have watched with your own two eyes.”

Wonwoo grins, shrugging. “I’m  _ obviously _ the bigger Jackie Chan fan here.”

“Stop! I hate you.” Junhui smacks Wonwoo’s chest, sitting up and moving to get off the bed. 

Wonwoo grabs his arm, pouting. “Take it back.” 

“No- I can’t  _ stand _ your taste in movies.” Junhui laughs, crawling back on top of Wonwoo to sit on his hips. “You get worse and worse to live with every day.” He laments though he leans closer until their noses are brushing. 

“I don’t think you’re telling the truth.”

“No?”

“Hu-uh.” Wonwoo can feel more than see Junhui’s lips turn up into a smile. “Don’t, I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“Gross.” Junhui mumbles, pressing his lips to Wonwoo’s. 

There’s still a stutter in Wonwoo’s heart beat every time Junhui kisses him, but he can’t help resisting. “Jun- my teeth-” 

Junhui interrupts his whining by slipping his tongue past Wonwoo’s lips and licking into his mouth. “You complain too much.” He laughs into Wonwoo’s open mouth.

“Says the one who’s done nothing but complain since he woke up.” It’s so comfortable the way they’ve fallen into a relationship, imperfect at times and even weird at others, but fitting together cheesily enough like a lock and key.

The look on his face must be giving him away because Junhui pauses, dark eyes focused on scanning over Wonwoo’s face. “I love you.” 

It isn’t as if Wonwoo hasn’t thought it every time he sees Junhui, ever since they parted ways in Paris- since he found Junhui sitting with tears in his eyes at Minghao’s first art exhibition. They show each other every day how much they love each other, it’s like they hadn’t ever needed words. But now that it’s been said, Wonwoo feels like he needs it like one needs air to breathe. 

“Wonwoo?” Junhui’s frowning faintly, uncertainty twisting his expression.

Carefully, he cups Junhui’s cheeks, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. “Say it again.”

Junhui’s eyebrows pinch together momentarily, but relax into an easy smile. “Okay but you have to say it back, duh.”

“I love you too, please?” Wonwoo says hurriedly, flushing at the overeagerness of his own voice.

Junhui giggles, running lithe fingers along Wonwoo’s jaw, his oversized, threadbare t-shirt- that Wonwoo’s pretty sure is actually  _ his _ \- hanging off one shoulder. He speaks in Italian this time, and Wonwoo’s picked up enough living here to know he says, “I love you. So much.”

Wonwoo pulls Junhui in then, forgetting about his dirty teeth- forgetting everything that isn’t Junhui pressed against him. His mind replays Junhui’s words in both languages over and over. “There aren’t enough languages to tell you how much you mean to me.”

“Shh.” Junhui sighs against Wonwoo’s lips. “I’m not trying to cry while we fuck.” That makes both of them laugh before they slip into another lazy kiss. Junhui’s fingers hook into the waistband of Wonwoo’s boxers and tug them off distractedly. His eyes are noticeably darker, hooded when he pulls back.

They’re not wearing much clothes between the two of them, but they take it slow regardless, in favor of just letting their hands roam, languishing in the laziness of it.

Junhui’s underwear are already off when he shifts to take off the shirt he’s wearing. Wonwoo shakes his head, grabbing Junhui’s chin between his thumb and forefinger to get his attention. “You can leave  _ my _ shirt on.”

Junhui smiles and releases his hold on the hem of the shirt, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “Okay.” There’s a sort of sparkle in his eye at that, and it only serves to make the heat in Wonwoo’s belly grow. 

His own tank top ends up bunched under his armpits while Junhui ducks his head to leave bruising kisses along Wonwoo’s tattoo and to his pierced nipple below it. “Fuck- Jun-” Wonwoo gasps when Junhui’s lips suction around his nipple and his teeth pull gently at the metal. Very early on it had become one of Junhui’s favorite things, to tease Wonwoo’s nipple by running his tongue over the cool metal. He’d even lauded Jihoon’s handiwork upon meeting him for the first time which was still something Jihoon continued to tease them both about.

Junhui’s still teasing Wonwoo’s nipples when he slips a bottle of lube into Wonwoo’s hand. A soft and breathless laugh shakes through Wonwoo’s shoulders- his hips rolling up against Junhui’s thigh. “Fuck-” Junhui giggles, pressing his thigh more firmly between Wonwoo’s legs and pulling a groan from him. 

“I love you.”

“Then put your fingers in me.”

“God, you’re gross.” Wonwoo smirks against Junhui’s temple, sighing at the feeling of Junhui’s teeth grazing his skin. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.  _ Prude _ .” Junhui mumbles, accusatory, against Wonwoo’s skin. His arrogance melts when Wonwoo pours lube down his ass and gives it a smack for good measure. “Wonwoo- it’s cold!” 

Wonwoo laughs and kisses Junhui’s temple, pulling him close enough to plant a kiss on his lips- sucking on his bottom lip. He uses this distraction against the stretch of his finger slowly pressing into Junhui’s hole. The sound that slips from Junhui’s lips and passes into Wonwoo’s mouth is high and needy, his hips pressing back in search of more. 

Wonwoo obliges him, pressing his finger in deeper until it’s to the last knuckle. Junhui shivers against him at the sensation. His mouth finds its way to the column of Wonwoo’s throat, leaving soft, nipping kisses along to his jaw while Wonwoo works at slowly opening him. Despite Junhui’s initial impatience, he doesn’t complain- in part because as soon as his mouth is on Wonwoo’s it doesn’t leave- once he has three fingers worked into him, rolling his hips slowly with the languid pace Wonwoo sets.

It isn’t until Wonwoo starts curling his fingers down against Junhui’s prostate that he starts to whine louder and press back to meet Wonwoo’s fingers insistently. “Wonwoo-” Junhui’s voice shakes with the tremor that runs through his body. It isn’t until the warm sensation on his stomach clicks with the fact that Junhui’s whining and reaching back to grab Wonwoo’s wrist that he realizes Junhui came untouched. “Fuck-” Junhui whines, pressing his forehead against Wonwoo’s sweat slick chest. 

“Fuck- why didn’t you tell me?” Wonwoo hums, burying his face in Junhui’s hair. He slides his fingers out of Junhui and soothes his hands over his ass.

“Mm-” There isn’t an immediate answer, just Junhui’s relaxing breathing. Wonwoo waits, continuing to smooth his hands over all of Junhui that he can reach. When he finally collects himself enough to answer, Junhui’s answer nearly knocks the breath out of Wonwoo. “We have time… didn’t want to rush.”

Wonwoo can feel himself practically glowing, cupping Junhui’s cheeks gently to make him look up. “You’re perfect.”

“I know.” Junhui presses his smile to Wonwoo’s lips. 

“I take it back.”

“You’re perfect too.” Junhui says, trailing his lips over Wonwoo’s jaw. “Perfect, and wonderful, and beautiful.” 

Wonwoo can’t help the smile that stretches his lips, his eyes fond when he meets Junhui’s. When they kiss again, it’s deep and deliberate. It makes Wonwoo’s heart ache, like he misses Junhui even though he’s right there. “Need more-” Wonwoo manages between kisses.

Junhui makes an appreciative noise, reaching behind himself and guiding Wonwoo into him. He sits back slowly until he’s fully seated on Wonwoo’s hips. His head falls back and Wonwoo can’t resist reaching up to stroke the column of his neck. 

Wonwoo lets Junhui set the pace, rocking up to meet his hips. They fuck slowly, taking their time- stopping a few times just to kiss, panting and gasping into each other’s mouths. Junhui isn’t doing much more than rolling his body, but it somehow the best thing Wonwoo’s ever felt. As cliche as it sounds, even in his own head, every new experience with Junhui feels like the best thing.

While he’s sure that they’ve had slow sex before, acknowledging it seems different somehow. Junhui’s ‘ _ I love you’ _ repeats over and over in his head. He can’t help but run his hands over Junhui’s body, the early afternoon sun haloing the room in light. His fingers shakily trace the curve of Junhui’s rib cage through his shirt, up over his nipple and the column of his neck to thumb carefully at his jaw. Wonwoo’s lost for words, barely able to keep his eyes open to watch Junhui lift himself and sink back down on Wonwoo’s cock a little quicker now.

It doesn’t take much for Wonwoo to come after that, his back arching away from the bed. His eyes are screwed shut but he can feel Junhui coming, dripping onto Wonwoo’s stomach. Then Junhui collapses against Wonwoo’s chest with a tired groan, his fingers tighten and loosen against Wonwoo’s shoulders while his breathing comes back down.

Wonwoo reaches his hands up under the t-shirt Junhui’s wearing, stroking gently over the curve of his spine and the arch of his shoulder blades. He can feel Junhui start to draw faint shapes into the skin of his chest and opens his eyes to look down, a feeble smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “What are you drawing?”

“Hm?” Junhui looks up lazily, his expression soft.

“What are you drawing?” Wonwoo nods down to where Junhui’s slender fingers work carefully.

“I’m trying to memorize this moment.” Junhui says quietly, “the look on your face.”

Wonwoo can feel the heat creep up the back of his neck. There’s something so natural about the way Junhui says it, like it’s second nature to him. It makes Wonwoo feel full, his heart fluttering in his chest. He remembers two pages of drawings stolen from a sketchbook- what feels like ages ago- that he keeps tucked in the back of his desk to look at sometimes, to remind him of how far they’ve come in such a short time. 

There have been many more drawings since that time, sketches in coffee shops and on restaurant napkins, and long nights sitting in Junhui’s studio while he tries to figure out the ins and outs of watercolor paints or god forbid oils (he’d decided ultimately to leave the oil painting to Minghao). But none of them compare to the feeling he gets from those pages because from the moment he laid eyes on them, he’d known how Junhui felt without even having to ask.

“Are you done memorizing?” Wonwoo asks when he feels Junhui’s fingers stop on his chest. He has to stifle a laugh when he looks down to find that Junhui’s fast asleep. Carefully, Wonwoo adjusts them to be on their sides, his arms wrapped around Junhui’s waist. He presses a kiss to Junhui’s hair. 

“I love you.” He mumbles, and he could swear he feels Junhui smile against his chest.

  
  
  
  
  


**_Eighteen Months Later, May_ **

The Sienese countryside is glorious in May, wildflowers fill the fields that aren’t plowed or covered in rows and rows of grapes. The smell of vineyards drifts, green and slightly sweet into the open windows of the car, made almost poetic by the driver singing along softly in Italian to some classical song on the radio. Junhui holds onto Wonwoo’s hand gently between them in the seat, he can feel sweat beading around the collar of his suit the further south they get. 

Next to him, Wonwoo is nearly hanging out the window, taking pictures with his phone. “It’s beautiful.” He says in Italian- it’s gotten so much better in the two years since he moved in with Junhui- which sparks up the driver into talking about how beautiful Siena is compared to Florence. 

Junhui nearly laughs at the defensive sort of prickle in his chest as the driver continues insulting Florence. When he’d first come to Florence, he’d never understood the battle of pride between Florence and Siena, but now that he was starting to feel at home in Florence, he too had started to feel more pride in it.

“We should go to the Palio this year.” Junhui smiles, watching Wonwoo who piques with interest.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like this big horse race in Siena that they used to get out the frustration of in fighting between neighborhoods. It’s pretty cool- I haven’t been since Minghao and I went freshman year. I had a lot of anxiety then, and there are always so many people.”

“Ah but you mustn't miss it!” The driver cheers, grinning at them in the rearview mirror. “You have to cheer for  _ Valdimontone _ !”

“Are you from there?” Wonwoo asks, leaning forward, which launches the driver into another monologue about the pride of his  _ contrade _ and their mortal enemies the  _ Nicchio _ .

\---

They’re dropped in front of a beautiful villa, all white plaster with red brick trim, surrounded by huge arrangements of flowers. There’s a fence covered in delicate ivy spanning around the back of the property, through the holes Junhui can see tables and the aisle set up for the wedding.

“They didn’t spare any expense, huh?” He can hear the amusement in Wonwoo’s voice, his eyes wide.

“This is Minghao and Mingyu you’re talking about-”

“Stop talking about me and get up here, asshole! You’re late!”

Junhui peers up to see Minghao leaning out an open window, only half dressed. He peers down at his watch and furrows his eyebrows. “You call ten minutes late?”

“It’s better than  _ dead _ , huh?” Minghao hisses.

“Okay, bridezilla chill, we’re coming.” Junhui laughs, holding tightly to the gift tucked under one arm and his overnight bag under the other. They leave the present on the gift table just inside the front door, toeing off their shoes, before climbing the stairs.

“Hao?”

Minghao pokes his head out of a bedroom, breaking into a smile finally. “Come on.”

The bedroom is in a massive disarray, clothes and beauty products strewn everywhere. “Shit, did your bag explode?” Junhui laughs, moving Minghao’s suit jacket to sit on the bed with Wonwoo sitting next to him, smiling.

“ _ No _ .” Minghao huffs, buttoning- or trying to- the buttons on his shirt. “Fuck! Why is this so hard?”

“Calm down, Hao, you’re gonna give yourself wrinkles.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, this is the most important day of my life.” Minghao snaps, running his hands through his hair and then cursing and looking in the mirror. “You’re making me mess up my hair.”

Junhui sighs and gets up, pulling Minghao into his arms. “I’m not making you do anything, but let me help you.” He starts buttoning Minghao’s shirt easily then moves on to trying to figure out the cuff links.

“Where is your dad anyway? I can see where you get being late from.”

“Your dad?” Wonwoo pipes up from the bed, his voice tiny. “Your  _ dad _ is going to be  _ here _ .”

“And his mom,” Minghao peers around Junhui’s grimacing face to look at Wonwoo. “Did Junhui not tell you? His dad’s walking me down the aisle.

“What?” Wonwoo’s voice raises with alarm.

Junhui swallows hard. It’s not like he didn’t  _ want _ to tell Wonwoo, they’d just been so busy that it had slipped his mind. “I’m  _ sorry _ . I forgot!” He sighs. “Can everyone please stop yelling?”

“What is all this shouting about?” A deep Mandarin voice cuts through the tension of the room.

“Dad!” Junhui jumps, facing the door, and dropping Minghao’s arm. A quick survey of the room finds that all three of them have turned to stare at Junhui’s dad whose smile is beaming.

“Boys, you look great,” He smiles easily, holding his arms open. They both run to him, sharing a tight hug. 

“Thanks dad.” Junhui pulls back to look up at him. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, I missed you guys.” Junhui’s father blinks when he finally sees Wonwoo. “Hello there, who’s this?”

“He uh- that’s- he doesn’t speak Mandarin.” Junhui looks back at Wonwoo who looks like he wants to melt through the floor. “My Wonwoo- Boyfriend! He’s- uh…” He runs his hands over his face. “That’s my boyfriend, Wonwoo.” He mumbles through his hands in Korean.

Mr. Wen’s face lights up with recognition, grinning. “Oh yes, I’ve heard so much about you! You get a hug too.” He separates himself and wraps his arms around Wonwoo who is momentarily frozen before he gives a gentle hug of his own. “Junhui says you’re a writer, what are you writing?”

“ _ Dad _ .”

“Uh, I’m actually working on a book based on how we met.” Wonwoo admits sheepishly.

“Oh wonderful, I’d love to read it when you’re done.” 

“Of course.” Wonwoo smiles warmly, though Junhui recognizes the nervousness in his fidgeting.

“Uh- dad could you help Minghao finish getting ready? I have to get down there and get into place.” Junhui grabs Wonwoo’s arm, pulling him along before his dad can even say yes.

\---

“I’m sorry about my dad.” Junhui frowns at Wonwoo, taking his hand in his own. 

“It’s okay.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “He’s not very intimidating- I definitely didn’t imagine you introducing me as your boyfriend.” His laugh is full of relief, laying his head on Junhui’s shoulder. “At least your parents will be at our wedding.”

“ _ Our wedding _ ?” The mere mention makes Junhui giddy, but it’s cut back by the inference that Wonwoo’s parents  _ won’t _ be. They hadn’t taken the news that Wonwoo wasn’t coming home well, and they were even more mad about the money he had wasted on the flight. As far as Junhui knew, the only one still in contact from Wonwoo’s family was his brother Bohyuk.

“Well… yeah, eventually right?” Wonwoo asks, looking at him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it.”

“I mean yeah…” Junhui flushes, elbowing Wonwoo. “It feels different out loud doesn’t it?”

Wonwoo laughs. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Just don’t propose to me at Minghao’s wedding if you want to live to see ours.”

“I would never.” Wonwoo gasps, scandalized.

Junhui brushes a hand through Wonwoo’s unruly curls. “If it makes you feel any better, the only parent between the two of them here is Mingyu’s mom.” He sighs, laying his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Minghao came out as soon as he got his scholarship to  _ Academia d’Arte _ and then he lived with us while he finished school. It was pretty badass of him.” Junhui pulls back and smiles at Wonwoo. “That’s what his first exhibition was about- piecing together families of your own.”

“I never told you this, but you should both be proud of yourselves for that exhibition, it was beautiful.”

“Please.” A heat creeps into Junhui’s face, his fingers finding their way into the spaces between Wonwoo’s. “My part in it was minimal, like a coloring book outline. I honestly didn’t even know he was going to include that piece, it was a final for a class we did together-” He cuts himself off with a laugh, biting his lip. “It was so big we had to clear the living room of our flat, and the couch was in the kitchen for like… weeks.”

Wonwoo laughs thumbing a tear from Junhui’s cheek that he didn’t even realize was there. “You okay?” He whispers, his voice low and calming.

Junhui nods, nuzzling his cheek into Wonwoo’s hand. “It’s- they’re happy tears, I promise. I’m just…” He throws up his hands helplessly. “Proud.” It’s not often that Junhui feels older than Minghao, like the big brother he practically is but now, knowing that Minghao’s taking a big step towards the next part of his life, he can’t help but feel a swelling joy in his chest.

Wonwoo pulls Junhui into his arms, fingers threading the back of his hair. He places a kiss on Junhui’s temple then, smiling against his skin. “He’s so lucky to have you, we all are.”

There’s a moment where Junhui has to choke down a sob, his fingers curling into the lapel of Wonwoo’s jacket. 

“Ahem.” Junhui peers, tearfully over Wonwoo’s shoulder to meet Mingyu’s eyes. “Everything alright here?”

“Wonwoo’s just saying sappy shit to make me cry.”

Mingyu breaks into a grin, teeth peeking over his bottom lip. “Well that’s no good.” He reaches over and ruffles Junhui’s hair. “Do you have your speech prepared for later?”

“I’m winging it, like everything else I’ve ever done.”

“Minghao is going to kill you if you fuck it up.” Mingyu snorts, shrugging his shoulders. “I trust you, though.”

“I work my best under pressure.” Junhui winks.

“Well you should start to feel the pressure now, it’s time to go.” Mingyu nods towards the open sliding glass backdoor. 

“Let me get my shoes-” Wonwoo starts.

Mingyu grins back at him. “No shoes- we’re all barefoot.” He wiggles his toes as if to punctuate his point. “C’mon.”

Junhui laughs and leans into Wonwoo. “I don’t know how you didn’t notice when we were living with them, Mingyu hates wearing shoes.” He laughs quietly. “He’d go barefoot around the studio at school, tracked painted footprints everywhere- drove Hao nuts.” 

Wonwoo shares in a conspiratory giggle. “I see. It’s cute.”

The grass is warm and a little damp under their feet, the flower arrangements on the multiple tables filling the air with a rosey smell. There are chairs on either side of a long, cream colored silk aisle. The roses are all off white with light blue ribbons- matching the color of Mingyu’s suit- wrapped around the vases. There’s light classical music playing from speakers set around the yard, just enough to float above the subconscious. In simple, it’s beautiful. 

“Junhui!” Crescent eyes curve upward at him, fingers wiggling from where he’s sitting near the front.

“Soonyoung?” Junhui laughs, eyes scanning his eyes and the eyes of the man next to him who is turned and smiling with a hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“Minghao didn’t tell you? I hired him to do a set for a dance I’m producing.” Soonyoung waves them over. It’s strange to see Soongyoung after so long, they hadn’t parted on particularly good terms but Junhui supposes time heals all wounds because he doesn’t feel like there’s any bad blood now. In fact, he feels happy to see him.

“That’s great, I’m glad you guys patched things up.”

“I was never really mad at the two of you- well, I was, but I’m not anymore- I mean, color me surprised that  _ you’re _ not the one standing up there waiting for him.” He rests a round cheek on his hand, grinning wider. “But I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“A few,” Junhui shrugs a shoulder, laughing quietly. “Oh uh, by the way, ex-boyfriend Soonyoung, current boyfriend Wonwoo.” He motions between the two of them. Wonwoo’s eyebrows lift into his hairline, looking between the two of them.

“Weird couple, I know.” Soonyoung says dismissively, grinning. He turns all the way around in his seat, straddling it. “As long as we’re getting to know each other, ex-boyfriend Junhui, current betrothed Seungcheol.” He cups Seungcheol’s chin as the man breaks into a wide, almost dopey smile, his thick eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. 

“Betrothed? Wow, nice to meet you. Never thought this one would settle down to be honest.”

“You take that back.” Soonyoung huffs.

Junhui smiles impishly. “Congrats. I have to go be in this wedding though. We can catch up later.” He tosses a wink over his shoulder, and one last gentle, reassuring squeeze to Wonwoo’s hand.

The procession is lining up at the back, and Junhui spots his mom with Mingyu’s mother in their pale blue dresses, the two of them chatting casually. “Hey, where do I stand?”

“You would know, if you came last night.” Mrs. Wen huffs, straightening Junhui’s tie.

“I know, I know! I had to finish the wedding gift.”

“Ah, well,” She smiles, kissing his cheeks and generally fussing over him. “What is it then?”

“I made a series of watercolor portraits of Hao’s favorite pictures of them together”

“Oh I bet it’s beautiful.” Both of the moms coo.

“Hey nerd.” From behind him, a voice distinctly teenage pipes up.

“ _ Fengjun? _ ”Junhui spins on his heel, grinning. “Hey brat.” He wraps his brother in his arms without hesitation, picking him up and spinning him.

“Hey, hey! Put me down! I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“Still look little to me.” Junhui holds his hand above Fengjun’s head. “In fact I don’t think you’ve grown since I last saw you.” It’s not true, Fengjun has shot up like a tree since Junhui last saw him a few years back- right before he’d met Wonwoo actually. 

“You’re a jackass.”

“ _ Feng _ !” Their mother scolds.

“Sorry.” Fengjun huffs, glaring up at Junhui who just laughs at him.

Mingyu arrives around that time and suddenly the air is serious again. “It’s time.” He breathes, looking very much like he’s about to pass out. 

“Mingyu, take some deep breaths.” Junhui laughs while Mingyu puts them in order.

“After this is finished-”

“No keep breathing, you’re going to pass out.” Junhui sighs. “And don’t lock your knees.”

“I know, I know.”

“And put a smile on for Hao so he doesn’t think you’re gonna run away.” Mingyu smiles and every single second of it looks painful. “Uh… Nevermind on that. Just focus on not crying.”

\---

Not crying, it seems, is an impossible task for everyone involved. The air is so strangely heavy with the perfume of flowers and anticipation, everyone appearing to be collectively holding their breath.

The moms go first, sitting together at the front of the small gathered crowd. It’s his own turn to walk with Hansol next, his cheeks flushing when he finally notices the other man standing next to him. “Sollie! I missed you, it’s been a while, huh?” He whispers, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’d say so,” Hansol grins, elbowing Junhui and lacing their arms together. “You have to tell me all about your train boyfriend later.”

Junhui flushes, sparing a nervous glance down the aisle. “You heard about that?”

“There’s a reason I’m Mingyu’s best man, right?”

Junhui snorts and allows himself to be led down the aisle, splitting at the front to stand on either side of the altar. He shares a private smile with Wonwoo who wiggles his fingers encouragingly.

Even if he’s not the one getting married, it’s nerve wracking- wanting everything to go right for his friends sake. Mingyu walks up next, doing his best to keep a smile on his face while the photographer takes pictures of him coming up the aisle. There are already tears hanging heavily in Mingyu’s eyes, but he takes it in stride, blinking his eyes rapidly to try and get rid of them. 

Next, Fengjun walks up the aisle hand in hand with Mingyu’s sister Minseo- she’s a few years older than Fengjun, and is pretty old for a flower girl but the wedding isn’t exactly conventional in the first place. They part at the head of the aisle after Fengjun hands the ring box to Mingyu, and each take seats next to their respective mothers. 

Junhui steels himself, looking up the aisle just as the violinist and cellist starts to play a soft variation of the wedding march. When Minghao and Junhui’s dad appear at the end of the aisle, looking polished and nothing like the mess Minghao was when Junhui first appeared, Junhui can hear Mingyu’s audible gasp. Minghao’s suit hugs his body, perfectly tailored with a lavallière hanging loosely around his neck. He looks over in time to see a sob shaking Mingyu’s shoulders, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

When he meets Minghao’s gaze, Junhui can feel tears welling in his own eyes. Minghao’s lip wobbles, his eyes darting around like he’s trying not to look at Mingyu. 

But then Mingyu starts  _ sobbing _ and it’s impossible not to look at him, everyone eying him sympathetically- including Minghao now. His sob isn’t audible, but Junhui can see the shake of his shoulders, the shine in his eyes and the way he holds more tightly to Junhui’s father’s hand. 

It feels like it takes an eternity for Minghao to meet them at the altar, dabbing delicately at his tears with his fingertips so as to not smudge his makeup. Junhui’s dad squeezes Minghao’s hands one more time before effectively handing him off to Mingyu and going to join his wife in the front row of seats. 

Mingyu takes Minghao’s hands then, looking at Minghao with watery eyes. The musicians’ music becomes just a gentle rhythm under the proceedings.

“You big baby.” Minghao mumbles, reaching up to wipe away Mingyu’s tears. Mingyu does the same, still loosely holding Minghao’s fingers while he thumbs gently at Minghao’s cheeks. “Don’t mess up my makeup.” That gets them both giggling tearfully.

Seungkwan officiates, and Junhui didn’t even  _ know _ he could do that. A strange look he gives to Hansol, tells him Hansol knows what he’s thinking and he shrugs one shoulder with a simple grin thrown in Seungkwan’s direction. The rest of the ceremony seems like it goes quickly, the vows exchanged refreshing the tears on everyone’s faces. Even a glance at Wonwoo finds him teary eyed, his smile watery when he meets Junhui’s blurred gaze. 

The last sentiment fills Junhui’s heart to bursting while he watches his two best friends in the world embark on a new journey together. Seungkwan says, “I now bind these two souls together in matrimony from this day forward to love each other unconditionally until the end of time. Please seal this union with a kiss.” 

And so they do.

\---

The wedding kind of diverges into a chaotic rush after that, Mingyu and Minghao running back down the aisle together in a shower of dried flowers, their laughter mixing with the music still being gently played.

The pomp of the wedding is replaced by the revelry of the reception, while Mingyu and Minghao are given a chance to dress down, the tables are moved to the center of the yard, and the catering tables are set out with food. In some corner, the DJ sets his table up, testing the sound quietly. Junhui helps move tables blindly, not seeing Wonwoo again until he’s grabbed from behind, given a low laugh in his ear that makes him jump. 

“Hey stranger.”

“Hey.” Junhui cranes his neck back to kiss Wonwoo’s jaw, smiling from ear to ear. “I missed you.”

“I was right there.” Wonwoo laughs, nuzzling against Junhui’s shoulder. “You were too busy crying.”

“I’m not too proud to admit it, you were crying too.” They’re both laughing, the overjoyed feeling, and release of all the stress of anticipation like some sort of infection, hangs tangibly in the air. Junhui turns in Wonwoo’s arms. The smile on Wonwoo’s face scrunches his features, highlighting the elated blush on his cheeks. There’s no stopping the giggle that escapes him when Wonwoo touches their foreheads together, and then they’re sharing that laughter and kisses in the miniscule space between them. 

“Okay you lovebirds! Help us with these tables.” Mr. Wen calls.

“Ah sorry, sir!” Wonwoo jumps back, pressing his glasses up on his nose.

“Oh, he’s just kidding, darling.” Mrs. Wen winks, waving them on. “He was once a young romantic too.”

“Ew!  _ Mom _ !” Fengjun complains, moving chairs to line the head table. 

Junhui curls himself back into Wonwoo’s arms, laughing. “That’s gonna take some getting used to.” Wonwoo laughs breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“Just… Being so open around your parents.”

“Oh yeah.” Junhui grins, finally pulling Wonwoo along to help him set tables. “I’m very lucky.” A smirk plays at his lip while he looks over his shoulder at his father. “Dad what did you say when I came out?”

His dad straightens out and laughs, looking between the two of them. “I said ‘please pass the duck, I’m hungry’.”

Junhui flourishes his hand towards his dad, breaking into laughter when Wonwoo does. 

“Of course we always figured, with Minghao.”

“ _ Eugh _ .” Junhui scrunches up his face in distaste.

“That noise of disgust better not have been about me, Wen Junhui.” Minghao crosses his arms, walking towards him purposefully. His hair looks wet at the ends- sticking to his forehead, a flush fading from the tips of his ears. He’s no longer wearing his suit jacket, but the loose bow around his neck is still in place- the sleeves of his shirt rolled to his forearms.

“You’re not subtle.”

Minghao turns his nose up. “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

Wonwoo laughs, coming to rest an arm around Junhui’s shoulders. “Couldn’t wait until the honeymoon?”

Mingyu scoffs from where he comes to settle behind Minghao, his forehead pressed against the back of Minghao’s neck. “You’re supposed to be on our side, Jeon.” Mingyu pouts.

Wonwoo laughs. “No offense, but you two never were very  _ secretive _ .”

Junhui bites his lip to stifle a giggle. “One might even venture to say  _ loud _ .”

“I’m being dissed at my own wedding.” Minghao huffs, though his eyes roll playfully. “Unbelievable.”

“I just wish I had Mingyu’s ability to say fuck in like thirty different languages-”

“Can we please just set up these tables.” Mingyu sighs out a laugh, his arms tightening around Minghao’s waist.

With everyone’s help, the reception is set up in no time, the food served, and everyone waits for the toast- for Junhui.

Junhui stands, his hand on Minghao’s shoulder, with Wonwoo looking up at him from the other side. “Attention everyone.” He taps a fork on the side of his wine glass. “Hello, ah,  _ ciao _ .” He laughs, upon looking around, he decides Italian is probably the way to go seeing as this is where the majority of their friends have taken up residence. Though, as it turns out, he doesn’t have to worry too much because Hansol takes up the job of translating to Korean for him. “I’d uh- like to propose a toast to my two best friends in the world. It’s kind of weird seeing the same nerdy kid I grew up with land himself a model husband-” This gains him an elbow in the side, but he continues on, “in all seriousness, though, uh-” He swallows hard, his eyelashes beginning to flutter with the heaviness of oncoming tears. “Jeez.” A little breath huffs out of him, nervous, but also trying his best to stem the flood of emotions.

There’s a little muttering of ‘ _ aw _ ’ around the room but Junhui soldiers through. “I’ve been through a lot with this kid,” he squeezes Minghao’s shoulder, vision blurring over. “I mean at this point we’re basically brothers. I’ve seen him laugh, cry, breakdown because of stupidly tight project deadlines-” soft laughter settles over the crowd. “I mean, you name it I’ve been there for it.”

Junhui looks down at Minghao and Mingyu, their hands lay atop each other on the table. “But to see these two fall in love? Now, that was something else.” His smile melts into fondness. “It wasn’t always easy, in fact for a while I was pretty sure only one of them was going to make it out of art school- my bet was on Minghao, no offense Gyu.”

“None taken.” He laughs.

“But then one day it was like, I don’t know, the planets aligned or something because suddenly you couldn’t find one without the other. All along it was like something was missing and then Gyu fell into our group of friends so naturally- like a piece we didn’t even realize we were missing. It made us take crazy adventures like that time we went to Paris in the middle of the night on my credit card because Mingyu was spending the semester there, and then we told my dad it was for school- sorry dad.” Junhui giggles while his dad just waves dismissively, thankfully chuckling. “And suddenly our apartment was a lot cleaner and we ate better than we had in… I don’t know probably since my parents came to visit in the summer.” There’s more shared laughter. 

“I really don’t know how we would have survived the last few semesters without Mingyu. So Mingyu, I just want to thank you for being such a… Solid force in our lives? You never run out of energy or care to give to others, and we all appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. You balance out each other, and it makes me so- so…” Junhui sniffs, swallowing hard. “I’m just really glad you found each other.”

“And uh, Hao…” Junhui chokes, his voice hoarse. “I never would have made it where I am without you. You’ve been there since I can remember- since no one else was. Since you included me in your exhibition, I’ve gotten job offers and felt better about my livelihood than I have in years. And if we’re being honest, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have even  _ met _ Wonwoo. So thank you for sticking around through everything and convincing me to even come to Europe on your crazy plan in the first place.” Junhui laughs tearfully, but he doesn’t feel ashamed because so is Minghao and Mingyu and even Wonwoo for that matter. He reaches down and takes Wonwoo’s hand with his own, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. 

“You guys are going to do amazing things, I just know it. Don’t forget to keep in touch wherever your adventures take you and know that our house is always open. I love you both, thank you.” Junhui can feel his ears burning once the applause begins and he’s able to sit again. Then he’s being enveloped in arms, first Minghao’s then Mingyu’s around that and finally Wonwoo. It feels so surreal and fulfilling, all of his favorite people in one place. 

“Sto~p” He sobs with their arms around him, clinging to whoever he can reach. “You’re embarrassing me.” But they don’t stop, they hold each other until Junhui’s afraid they might never let go- but he finds that he doesn’t mind the thought too much. 

\---

After the plates have been cleared away from dinner, and Minghao has a chance to shove cake into Mingyu’s face to which Mingyu retaliates by wiping light blue icing down Minghao’s nose which inevitably gets on his shirt which causes Minghao to have a fit about staining until he and Mingyu are rolling around in the grass, choking on laughter because of the piece of cake Minghao has poised as a weapon above his head and is crumbling slowly in his hand.

Junhui and Wonwoo laugh at the spectacle, feeding each other their shared cake carefully. They schmooze and eat cake, Junhui introducing Wonwoo to everyone here that he knows, including a talk with his parents and Fengjun- who makes disgruntled noises whenever Junhui and Wonwoo’s hands so much as brush against each other, but finds he has a shared interest in video games with Wonwoo. 

Even Soonyoung comes to give Junhui a hug, with the promise that they don’t share any embarrassing stories about each other with the other’s partner when they’re inevitably drunk off the open bar later. To which Seungcheol gives puppy dog eyes and begs to hear  _ just one _ embarrassing story  _ please _ . Junhui just laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t want to die before I get a chance to get married.” Soonyoung gives a satisfied, foxish smile at that.

He talks with Hansol and Seungkwan whom he hasn’t really seen since college days when they were always stealing away in Minghao’s studio to get high. As it turns out, his life now isn’t much different. He now hangs out in his own studio in London though, and gets high, turning out trippy vaporwave style portraits for famous people after a video of him doing street art went viral. 

“London? Some of my best friends live there- they own a body mod shop.”

Hansol looks Wonwoo up and down. “You have friends who own a body mod shop?” He laughs, quirking an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t mess with him,” Junhui lowers his voice. “He’s got a pierced nipple.”

Wonwoo looks smug at Hansol’s embarrassed face before they’re both giggling. Once it dies down, Wonwoo smiles. “If you ever see a place called Al1 and you want a tattoo or piercing, just tell them Wonwoo sent you.”

“Will do.” Hansol grins, but is then whisked away by Seungkwan because the first dance is starting and everyone’s gathered in a circle around the stone patio dance floor. 

When Junhui hears the starting notes of  _ Bloom _ by the Paper Kites, he feels his smile spread impossibly tight. They join the circle, watching Minghao take Mingyu’s hands delicately and they start to slow dance. A tear slips down Junhui’s cheek only to be caught by Wonwoo where it hangs from his jaw. “You okay?” His lips brush Junhui’s temple while he speaks, and it only serves to make Junhui curl into his chest, peering back over his own shoulder to watch the dance.

“They’re stupid.” Junhui mumbles, sniffing. Wonwoo’s laugh shakes him. “They used to fight about who liked this band more.” He giggles tearfully, when he sees Minghao stick his tongue out in their direction. “I think he knows I’m talking about him.”

“It’s so sweet,” Wonwoo murmurs, threading the fingers on their left hands together so that his lock and Junhui’s key line up. Suddenly, he’s fairly certain Wonwoo’s not talking about the dance in front of him, his eyes glued to Junhui’s. 

They start swaying when the next song plays, though Junhui’s not even sure what it is. Wonwoo’s free hand comes to rest at the small of his back, holding him close while Junhui lays his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

After a few moments of soft swaying, Wonwoo speaks gently against his ear. “What do you want our first dance song to be?”

Distantly, Junhui remembers a warm night in Paris, muggy from the impending rain. A song he can’t quite put his finger on. He glances up at Wonwoo’s expectant face, thumbing light patterns into the back of his hand. “That night… In the square.” His voice comes, barely above a breath, but Wonwoo hears him- or maybe he already knew what Junhui would say. 

Slowly, Wonwoo’s lips come to rest upon his own, gently sharing the space there. It feels like they're the only two people in the world, sending Junhui's heart into a fluttering mess while the lyrics hum, inobtrusive over Junhui’s mouth. “I’m in love, and always will be.” 

And they kiss, deep and slow at the promise of  _ always _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the first thing I've written in a while and I'm really glad to be back into it. I really hope you enjoyed it. Kudos, comments, and shares would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> I would really like to thank [hannah](https://twitter.com/leeseokminluvr) for being my constant validator and beta tester and reading the story like a million times.
> 
> If you'd like to know more about me follow me on my personal twitter [here](https://twitter.com/yeosangay) or if you want to follow my writing as I try and get more consistent in uploading you can follow me [here](https://twitter.com/rapgodwoozi).


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